Wednesday 2nd April

Agra, Uttar Pradesh

I'm sitting in awe of the most beautiful building in the world. The Taj Mahal. Of storybooks and postcards from other people's holidays. It's so ornate, seems so unreal and you feel you can almost take it home in a little box. It's shape is insanely aesthetically pleasing, it's design so endearing that I could just sit here all day. Just looking. Poor Shah Jahan. he spent thirty-odd years building it and soon after it was finished he was deposed by his own son and spent the rest of his life imprisoned in the nearby Red Fort, gazing towards his love.

The Red Fort here is pretty amazing too, in much better condition than the one at Delhi. Although it has also had all the gold and precious stones stolen. They're putting lots of work into restoring it though and it'll soon be in 'mint' condition. The Taj Mahal has had all it's precious stones replaced on the outside so that no-one will see them. They would as well. From the front (or back, depending on how you look at it) you can see the Taj Mahal on the banks of the river Yamuna, like some huge white spaceship. This was our first glimpse of it and it was so weird seeing it for real as opposed to the postcards. It looks totally different to what I expected, not that I really know what I was expecting - a big white thing standing by itself, perhaps.

Lots of tourists again, though I think I'm immune now. Some (most) of them still quite shock us though, girls wearing shorts and see-through dresses, things like that. Outside the fort they were selling whips! Why? What relevance is a huge leather whip to the beautiful fort? They were very pushy, thrusting things in front of our faces; film sir? Marble box very cheap only 50 Rupees, whip sir? Okay this box only 20 Rupees sir, sir? Film sir? Okay film only 12... 10.. sir, sir?

The mosquitoes are back in force, last night we got completely bitten to death. I don't think either of us got much sleep and I don't know when we last took our anti-malarials. Then again if we had been taking them every day we'd have run out by now anyway. I just wish I'd got enough for me for the six months, instead of sharing C.'s. We must have missed loads of days - six months for one have lasted for two! Mosquitoes, what was God thinking? It'd serve us right if we both get full-blown malaria.¹

...

Ramnad hasn't been in my thoughts very much lately, although on the way to Itmad-ud-daulah's Tomb (also known as the Baby Taj) we saw a lot of wild pigs that brought it all back a bit. It's hard to imagine the desolation that I felt before we left. The tears in my last choir practices. The loneliness in Madurai. I knew that once we started on the Round Trip it would all go away and it has. The past month has literally flown by and we haven't had time to think. There have been plenty of relaxing afternoons, but then we were just so glad to have nothing to do that we thought about other things. Home is very far away, even when I talked to dad in Goa it felt kind of out of place, an oasis. It's as if I'm sending my postcards to nowhere because I get no return on them. That's the main reason I feel so detached from my life, like it's a book I've read, or something I saw on TV once. Of course when we're back it'll be the other way round, but I'll know a lot more about India.

We've been travelling round by cycle-rickshaw, which is a lot more fun, eco-friendly, quiet and interesting, even if it does take longer. In Agra, there are carpet emporiums and marble shops as well as all the jewellery shops. here they lure you in by showing you how things are made. We go in, look at the factory then tell them we're not going to buy anything so there's no point in trying to persuade us. Okay, they assure us just looking, you don't have to buy. This is soon forgotten when they catch you looking at something with more than passing curiosity. Good choice, sir, excellent gift for girlfriend, mother... SHUT UP!!! And they get annoyed when we don't buy anything. The carpet place was very interesting though, one man knots the carpets by hand, cutting each knot separately. How he does this without missing knots and cutting his fingers off I'll never know. Next, the carpet is washed and another man trims it with a pair of scissors. He does this twice and then the pattern comes out. The edges are sewn up with wool, tassels are cut on the ends and it is ready for us to buy (beautiful for you front room?).

...

I have been very pleasantly surprised with Agra, it's not crowded, not that polluted and is a reasonable size. You can escape the usual racket quite quickly in the gardens. The weather has been very good to us as well, there are loads of clouds in the sky which hide the sun, making it very cool instead of unbearably hot. They cleared for a while around lunchtime so we could get all those idyllic shots of the Taj Mahal. I could stay here for a week, a year, forever. Shame I probably won't come back. But then I suppose that's up to me...

Friday 4th April

Bodh Gaya, Bihar

Our train to Varanasi (in Uttar Pradesh, like Agra) took about 12 hours to arrive and we only had half a day there. We went straight to a restaurant (where I left behind my silver ring from Jaipur) and met a very nice cycle-rickshaw man who expressed deep concern for us vulnerable tourists. He took us to some temples, the first being a Durga temple (the Monkey Temple) - red and evil. A man turned up when we went to fetch our shoes, claiming he'd been watching them for us all along. As he obviously hadn't, I gave him two Rupees and the look he gave me was reward for his lie. A Hanuman temple was next, covered in flies and monkeys. There was a group of Monkey-God devotees banging drums and cymbals, singing and shouting Hare Krishna, Hare Rama at varying speeds. They do this 24 hours a day, our friendly cyclist-driver informed us.

The river Ganges, the world-famous River of Life runs right next to the city and all along its South bank are Varanasi's most famous feature, the Ghats. These are sets of steps which run down to the river and are used for a multitude of purposes. The most obvious one being washing oneself and one's clothes. They are also used by the temples and several Maharajas have palaces here. On a less appetizing note, there are two 'Burning Ghats' where the dead are immersed in the Holy river then cremated. Only new-born babies and Sadhus (Holy Men) aren't cremated - they are tipped into the river and left for the fish.

Either way, you wouldn't catch me washing there! We got on a boat arranged by our kind rickshaw driver (Rs75 each an hour - when we met other boatmen later we discovered he wasn't so kind after all) and rowed up the river. We saw all the above, trying to resist the fascination of the cremations. Some of the Ghats are steeped in Myth, like the Dassawarmedh Ghat where Lord Brahma sacrificed 10 horses to bring back Lord Shiva, and one where some Goddess dropped her ring and Shiva ordered Krishna to dig it out (since it fell deep into the ground, of course), which he did, filling the resulting well with his own sweat. I think it's this well that they reckon re-dates the arrival of the Ganja but I'm not sure - it's all very confusing!

Our boatman decided to overcharge us so we got off and gave him some money for the rickshaw driver who'd said he'd meet us when we got back. We ventured into the town. Near the river Varanasi is a veritable maze of tiny paved streets which weave all over the place. We tried to find a temple, but went in a big circle instead, coming out at the river again. We found a little guide who'd adopted us as his tourists after we bought some postcards from him and gave him an orange. He took us to the Golden Temple whose tower is covered with several hundred kilos of gold plating.

Aurangzeb, (the son who deposed Shah Jahan who'd built the Taj Mahal), in good Muslim tradition, invaded the Hindu's Holy City, knocked down their biggest temples and built Mosques on their foundations. There's one on the site of the 'original' Golden Temple, with the new Golden Temple right next to it. The 'Great Mosque of Aurangzeb' is the biggest one here, built on the riverbank. The streets are full of armed police, just in case any Muslims happen to let it slip that they think Aurangzeb was a great bloke within earshot of any Hindus.

There were more police than usual yesterday we were told, because two men were shot in the morning. We actually passed by the street where it happened. We spent the rest of the time getting lost on purpose in the tiny streets pretending to be interested in the millions of tiny shops.

Our train was at 8pm (going on 11) so we went back to the station for dinner. I went to get my ring back (What? No, haven't seen any ring you must be mistaken - lunchtime - oh you mean THIS ring, ha, ha, here you go) which cheered me up a bit, especially since I realized on the train that I'd left my Ahmedabad, Jaipur and Delhi films at the Taj where the prints are probably waiting for me now...

So we've come to Bodh Gaya, the place where Buddha achieved enlightenment. It's full of Buddhist temples which we'll explore tomorrow and is very small. The roads are all sand - tar - potholed and its a very poor area. There are a myriad of meditation courses available and hopefully after tomorrow I'll know a bit more about the religion.

...

If we manage to get a flight home on the 25th, it means we have three weeks left today. If it's the 21st - it's even less. I can't believe it. A week on Monday we'll be back in Madurai, Tuesday in Ramnad - then home.

What is 'home' now?¹ I have no idea at the moment but when I get there I guess I'll soon get back into it. The pubs, the life, girlfriends - I haven't had a girlfriend for over a year!² A sad state of affairs (affairs - geddit?). This Round Trip is brilliant, a real GetAwayFromItAll extravaganza. I started with some idea of a quest in mind - for what, I don't know and won't know probably, not ever.

We've seen the temples of Tamil Nadu, the churches of Old Goa, the mosques of Ahmedabad, the Ghats of Varanasi and now the Buddhist Temples of Bodh Gaya. We haven't been to any Sikh Gurudwaras yet but I'm sure we can squeeze them in somewhere! I'm learning so much, my brain will probably explode, I hope I don't bore people too much in the summer.

I've had my name sung into the Taj Mahal, it resonated for 15 seconds!³ I've been to the biggest mosque in India and I've been on a boat on the Ganges. What more can I want? This land is full of so much history, everything that exists has a story and everything has a purpose. Everything we've seen has been 'Important' and that is what I feel we've achieved. I wouldn't say that a single visit has been wasted.

Sunday 6th April

Still none the wiser about the finer details of Buddhism, but it looks (on the surface) like they worship Buddha as if he's a God, or Jesus or something. Very Indian, idolising some bloke who 'found' enlightenment. The temples have all been built by Buddhists from all around the East, so there are Tibetan, Thai, Japanese and other. The buildings reflect the temples in these various countries, so no two are the same.

The biggest - the Mahabodhi Temple is built on the site of the 'Holy Bodhi' tree where the Buddha sat to achieve enlightenment. The tree that's there now is said to be a direct descendent of the original. Again, we've been slightly disillusioned as all the people come to pray to Buddha as if he's just another God. There were a lot of meditation courses available, which is probably more what he would have wanted people to do. If I'm going to have a revelation I won't be having it in India! For one thing, I'd be turned into a Deity, but also all the Hindus would claim that I am an incarnation of Shiva or Vishnu or something like they've done with both Jesus and Buddha.

I am Drifting Into the Arena of the Unwell again, with flu and stomach problems. It's not much fun, especially as I've been running around trying to sort out our ticket to Bhubaneswar.

Our train last night was cancelled due to being unattached to the rails, so I was told to go back and book us tickets for today. The Enquiries people sent me to the Upper Class Booking Office, which was doling out refunds, so they sent me to the Computerised Reservation Office, which was closed so I went back to the Enquiries Office and then to the Station Manager who said he'd 'allow' my ticket for today.

This morning we went through pretty much the same process, culminating in the Station Manager saying come back at twelve. Now I know M. said we mustn't allow ourselves to get angry at Indian Bureaucracy but when they palm you off on each other because it's not their job to help you I do find it slightly difficult.

The good thing is that you can swear at them and it doesn't matter because they don't understand and it makes you feel better. I don't know how . can say that 'all' Indians are wonderful people, is it perhaps that the Bishop did everything for him? I'm sure he never saw the side of India that we've seen today.

Later, 8:30pm - On The Train

I think the ultimate frustration has to be being told you are incompetent and it's all your fault when the accuser hasn't even bothered to listen yet.

But it's not my fault! I protested, the Station Master TOLD me to come back today!

What are words? Words don't get you on the train. My fat friend with a mouth like dead fish frowned to himself, rolling his eyes at my incompetence. This ticket is dead, void, this train was yesterday, you must get a new ticket.

But they won't let me book one - I know this from yesterday, that's why I'm here. You stupid, horrible, stuck up little fat man. Why, why, why?

I'm sitting in my berth now, the top one of three and we didn't have to bribe the conductor to get beds. There are two young girls opposite, conversing in English and across the aisle is another fat man who's stopped eating and started sleeping. The two (surely homosexual) men with a conspicuous lack of tickets whose presence threatened our sleep have now gone, somewhere, and everyone is contented. C. has been lost in conversation with a young-ish man whose black money belt makes him look like a karate champion. His Student's Guide to Income Tax is now hidden and I suspect he's waiting for C. to go to bed so that he can too. C. is lost in A History Of India Vol II (Mughals to the present day).

When I talked to M.'s secretary about going to Madurai from Chennai she said, I trust you're flying, the trains are a NIGHTmare! I told her that we were already booked and she added, Oh well - you'll enjoy THAT, then!

Even now, after the fiasco of yesterday I don't know what she means, unless she thinks that all Indian trains are like the one we took from Pune to Mumbai where C. was sick. It's really nice to be around so many people, to be able to sleep on a tedious journey and to be able to relax.

Of course, the journey from Chennai WAS a nightmare, but for very different reasons. Not the fuss, the food, the conditions, but for changes and adjustments within me. C. said he's getting bored of travelling - not the places because they've all been interesting, but the trains. Each train is a transition. It is not us, but the world that moves. When we alight, the familiarity of the train gives way to the newness of each new place.

The girls are now singing 'We Shall Overcome' after 'Showers of Blessings'; the man below me is eating fried green chilis that he is dipping in spicy masala powder.

HOME is more 'real' now, and I am preparing myself fo rthe Next Big Thing. Buying souvenirs is a big problem, what to get for whom? If at all? I seem to have bought most things for me by mistake. The trouble with tourist-y things is that the only difference between what you get here and what you get at home is the price. Round Trip souvenirs have to be for me, but what can I get from Tamil Nadu, something culture, that reflects the whol point of our time here? Five months and I don't know what the arts and crafts are like.

More and more I realise how much more we could have done if only we'd had the support of the Rev / Bishop. If only we'd known. We shouldn't have been left to our own devices for so long. The Rev should have come in every week with things to do, trips to villages, festivals, anything at all. But he ignored us. Because his welcome was so subdued, everyone else kind of ignored us as well. No-one showed approval, no-one openly criticised. We didn't need to be Guests of Honour at St Andrews School functions, we needed to be invited to someone's house, to be shown that they cared. For all we know, no-one did.

But we were young and naive then, I shouldn't have read all those English novels, I should have taken my guitar out earlier. Now we're older and wiser and we only have three weeks left to reconcile our failures with our achievements. To move our friendships onto that difficult next step of permanent separation. To traverse distances with love. To transcend physical presence with the friendship of souls.¹

We can but dream of what it would be like if Jerry or Yesu came to England, what we would do, where we would take them. What would Miss Shanti think? Or Arun with his sulky conservativeness? What about my choir and all we've done together? With all this travelling I've almost forgotten as I feared (dare I say it? - hoped) I would what it was like to get up in the morning to Wheat Flakes - school - choir - Monopoly - St Andrews - visiting - bed. The routine itself is someone else's story. Cutting up freshly killed and still warm chicken, trying to cook something different with the same ingredients every day.

Soon we'll be back, but we'll be different, detached, it's not our home any more.

Wednesday 9th April

Chennai (Madras)!, Tamil Nadu

I've got a splitting headache and haven't eaten anything since Sunday (horrible train food). Well - I've had a nibble of some Real Toast(!) and a bit of au gratin, but that's about it. We got to Bhubaneswar in Orissa at 6am and had an argument with a man in a hotel about his 24hr check-out time. This was Monday. Bhubaneswar is a strange place. It is a great place for studying Orissan temple architecture. (Our room had satellite television, so we stayed in and watched BBC World, music videos and a swashbuckler about the Jacobite rebellion with Michael Caine¹). At about lunchtime we dragged ourselves away in search of a restaurant for C. to have some lunch. Hence the 'real toast'. The food was so good, we went back three times!

Anyway, after this we explored the part of town that's full of temples. And I mean FULL. hundreds of 'em! Like giant bee hives! The best was a Kali temple which featured the Goddess in her usual friendly posture, standing on a corpse wearing a necklace of skulls - in complete darkness.² The bats didn't like us going in.

Most of them are Shiva temples like in Varanasi. It was very hot and I was very ill so we returned quickly to Star Movies. There was a Yul Brynner film on about the Dacoit rebellion in India.³ Filmed entirely at Pinewood Studios in London, it featured a lot of white actors painted black and talking in silly voices.

Orissa seems to be the place for erotic sculpture and most of the temples featured scenes from the Kama Sutra in embarrassing detail. It's impossible to be sensible and critical about these, they're just vulgar. Much bigger sculptures are at the Sun Temple at Konark, which we visited on Tuesday.

This temple is built to Surya (also known - albeit less famously - as the God of food poisoning⁴) and used to have a 69m tower. It has different kinds of sculpture in different areas; animals for the children, erotica for the young adults and spirituality for the oldies. All these feature at different levels on the Audience Hall (the 32m remains, which led to the main temple.

It is built in the form of a chariot - facing East - with twelve huge wheels and seven horses. We had a guide who took us around, embarrassing us by describing what all the sculptures were so graphically showing!

I was throwing up at night and even a couple of hours on the beach didn't help much. We've just had twenty hours on the train, having decided to come straight to Madras. It's not at all like we remember it, but more of that later.

It's good to be back in Tamil Nadu again after our holiday. But in the end I have only one thought on my mind - I want to go home!

Friday 11th April

Trichy (Tiruchirapalli), Tamil Nadu

Life is fun, C. is all - YES David, I AM tired, we're in Trichy and we have to fly home on the 21st - a week on Monday! More later.

Indeed more of everything later because it's past eleven and I'm tired too.

Saturday 12th April

Madras ISN'T a very nice city at all. It's noisy and polluted just like all the other cities, but there's nothing there. A temple, a couple of churches, a fort, nothing new. My illness stayed on into Thursday so we changed some money - my last Traveller's Cheque (!) - tried to sort out our flight (failed) and went to the museum.

Museums are boring now, every one in India is exactly the same. Bits of temples, sculptures, Indus Valley Civilisation... Not much else to do, so we went to the beach. I was very rude to this bloke who approached us in the park, but then felt incredibly guilty because he had this collection of amazing carved pendants. I spent Rs400 on quite a few of them, partly to assuage my guilt, but mostly because they're excellent and it tones down my present (as in souvenirs) worries.

Our ticket is now sorted out - You'll have to wait until the 15th for the 25th and you'll have to go to Coimbatore to get your ticket if you get seats - we resigned ourselves to going on the 21st. Our brilliant plan of having an extra week in Ramnad and then going home on a Friday so we won't be lonely in our first couple of days back has been foiled. Just follows the pattern of my life - make a plan, sort it out, watch it fail. Hey ho.

I'm going to be glad to be at home with people who understand me again. I'm sick of being misconstrued, especially by C. who always thinks I'm much more serious than I really am. C. and I are so different and I still feel as if we're making a special effort just because we have to. Naturally we like each other a lot more now and we understand - or at least know about - each other's little quirks.

But the way C. is, is just not suited to me. He's still inhibited and I hate the way he never let go of England. He talks about being 'Indian' in a kind of detached, seen-it-on-TV kind of way. We are too far apart, an introvert and an extrovert, one always (at least trying to be) happy and careless,¹ the other stressed, miserable and paranoid. Some of the time.

C. gets angry at Things. He curses stones and shouts at doors. much safer, because they don't shout back. But what's the point? Why not stay happy, don't get angry at anything and stay positive? But it's still just another page in the vast encyclopaedia of difference.

...

So we're in Tiruchirapalli and it's one of the Big Places to see in Tamil Nadu. There's a rock fort on top of a big rock and a temple that covers 2.5 square km! These are what we're going to see today. On the train last night, the chap next to me told us to go to Tanjore because there's another temple there, but I think we've seen enough. Just these last few, then back to Madurai tonight.

Sunday 13th April

Madurai

In Madras we met up with Gerard Samuel and George Koshy at the CSI place where we stayed when we first arrived. We didn't recognise Gerard at first, but he didn't know us either so there was no embarrassment. George Koshy, although we saw him only briefly, came across as quite an amazing person and when you talk to him he looks at you as if you are the only person in the universe. I expressed my desire to buy a drum¹ and Gerard took us off in a company car. I'm quite worried about the weight and carrying it on the plane, but I'm sure I'll get away with it! If it's still there when we go back that is - there didn't seem any point in lugging it all the way down here.

The Rock Fort at Trichy isn't a fort at all, it's a temple stuck on top of an eighty metre rock that was fortified by the King because he saw what a good fort it could be. The views from the top are spectacular and after the four-hundred steps we were glad to be able to rest and enjoy them. There's no rain any more, so it is HOT. At the nearby temple - the biggest in India - we burned our feet on the hot stone roof. This temple (Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple), dedicated to Vishnu consists of seven rectangular walls inside one another leading to the Sanctum Sanctorum. Round the outermost walls are shops, houses and restaurants making the temple part of the town. It has twenty-one towers and countless shrines to various Gods. But, when it all comes down to it it is more of the same.

And that's it, finished. The Greatest Adventure Of Our Lives (so far) has become glorious memory. It was really great and I'm so glad to have done it. To be honest, by Madras we were pretty sick of the whole thing and I think it was probably just the right length really. The thing that stands out is the fact that nothing was stolen and we got through with the absolute minimum of fuss.²

We were completely independent from everyone and the next step is is of course, to do it alone. I don't feel any different, but I think it has probably helped to get us into the right frame of mind for going home again. We won't be so culture-shocked now, we've seen Wimpys and Levis shops in the cities. I've been stocking up on things that I can use in England, rather than all the impractical thin clothes we've been wearing in Ramnad! This may be a bad thing, perhaps we've lost all the cultural education we got so painstakingly before.

Tuesday 15th April

Ramnad

Yesu looked so surprised to see us when we turned up all sweaty and exhausted on his doorstep. About ten minutes later the word had reached Jerry and he ran round as soon as he heard we were back. Everyone looks different, but really they don't - it's just the way memory distorts things. Miss Shanti is as beautiful as ever and we have Sunny once again! The HM is just as nice, the Rev just as insane and everyone is only too well aware that we are leaving for good in less than a week.

Our dear friend Muthu came to see us when we were at the Rev's house last night. He's changed his story, apparently he DIDN'T take my camera but WAS going to return it! Yeah, right. That doesn't mean that you're going to come to the beach with us you worm. Liar.

We went to see Anandaraj and Idayavani in Madurai, and said lots of things about Rev Athisayam's 'help' with our stay that I regret now (we regret now!). Anandaraj worries far too much and literally worships England. It's very annoying because he kept going on about Indian buses and trains and people and how rubbish / dirty / miserable they are. He thinks that English people are always smiling! Poor deluded chap. That's what comes of only seeing Sellyoak.

It's a very weird feeling, whoever we talk to wants to spend all of their time with us which is only fair, but you always get to a point where the only thing left to do is leave. We haven't seen Mrs Juliet yet. Only six days to go... I just want to go home now, I've come to that point, like the conversations, where there is only one thing left. The flight. I've reconciled myself to the 'fact' of leaving now.

Wednesday 16th April

Yesterday's lunch at Yesu's house was excellent, and it just shows how much of an impact our bizarre eating habits have had on him. We had boiled veg (no seasoning) and chicken 65. I think his father was pretty horrified, but we ate it all - too much - so that's alright. Indians always say 'no' when offered anything, which explains why we always get more when we don't want any. Idayavani said that when she went to Sellyoak she was told to always say what she wanted. If you say no to a cup of tea you won't get one! Here, the host has to keep pushing, because everybody says no the first time.

The Rev said he'd come round this morning to tell us about the church projects in Ramnad. He's going to take us round again (like he did in November) so we can take pictures. Well C. can, I'm not sure that I'm going to do that much as far as 'twinning' with a church goes. We haven't done anything with the church our whole time here. Our commitment is to the schools. C.'s got £100 that he's going to give to Rev Jothinayagam for the Pamban fishermen.

But all this is old hat and just part of the problem which is: WHY are we here? Is it USPG¹, to do their work and re-establish links with the SPG churches here? The Bishop seems to think so. Or is it for the experience, the friendship and the holiday? An altogether cushier number and perhaps more selfish option. It's made a big impact on each of our lives in different ways and I don't know how to categorise it. It's been:

1. A Learning experience. But how can I use this knowledge of the culture, the history, the church, the people?
2. A cultural experience. I've adapted my deeply ingrained habits and customs to live more comfortably in this culture, to be accepted. But what good will it do me in England? Except while entertaining Indian guests?
3. A sobering experience. I've been re-awakened to the needs of the third world and by being invited into people's homes have been closer to them than any tourist. This has helped me to see them as human as I am and not just some picture on TV to sympathize with.
4. Working experience? Not really. For me anyway. more fun, I'd play my guitar anywhere.
5. Friendship. The most important. Without Yesu and Jerry we'd have left long ago. They (and all our other friends) have made the whole thing so much more worthwhile. Even if we do nothing about it, we'll still have these very special memories, whatever happens.
6. And fun. But where's the Church is all this? Okay, I admit we went to church once or twice but there wasn't exactly a big involvement or any real acceptance. Oh well.

Thursday 17th April

Even though we've only got a couple of days left in India our dear, dithering Reverend still didn't come to see us when he said he would. He said 9:30, we waited until eleven then took Miss Shanti's Sunny-Zip out for a spin. Why? Why didn't he come? It's the only time we could have gone round to see the projects. Now we'll never know what we missed, what the church actually does in Ramnad.

We went to the beach on Tuesday afternoon with Yesu and Jerry - at Muthupettai - which was quite fun, although the sea was very rough and I made sure they didn't go out too far. We had a great time diving into the breakers instead. In the evening we went to see Mrs Juliet and that visit made me realise how much I've come to care for her. All the arguments and things have served to make the friendship deeper.

Yesterday we tried to go to another beach in the afternoon but the bus didn't come so we bought chocolate and played monopoly instead. I didn't really want to go to the beach with Yesu and Jerry every day because it means we're isolating ourselves from everyone. There are other people I'd like to spend time with, but no-one's going to come and visit us. They're like that. Everyone will probably come round tomorrow with invitations for dinner that we can't accept. It's as if they think we're going to be here forever. But the truth is looming large. We are denying ourselves the acceptance of this truth so that we can enjoy our last couple of days here. Just carrying on like normal. We can see people tomorrow, tonight, next week...

Last night Rev Jothi was playing badminton with his son and in due course Yesu and I borrowed some racquets off him. We played until we broke his shuttlecock and Jerry and I had to go and buy another. C. came out and we played doubles until it got dark so we switched our outside light on and played a bit more.

We had dinner with a boy from 9a called Siva and Mrs Juliet must have had something to do with it because it was Purri and potato korma stuff - our favourites! I don't think I'm going to miss the custom of guests eating first while the whole family stands around watching you eat and looking really hungry.

We were up at seven this morning playing badminton again, 1-1. I'm getting really tired now, I had about eight hours sleep last night and it was still a real effort to get up this morning. I'm going to keep it at bay until we leave though, I'll be able to sleep for as long as I like when we get home.

Saturday 19th April

Madurai

On Thursday we went shopping with the HM and Mrs Juliet, I had intended to get a Salwar Kameez for my sis but they were all in such bad taste that I couldn't bring myself to do it. We had lunch at the Chola (Garden restaurant) and the HM insisted on filling us to the brim with food. I'd tried to organise a sing-song in the afternoon, but she said let them wait.

I was an hour late and everyone had gone home except for the hardcore of favourites. We sang for a bit, Miss Shanti (the wonderful...) came round and they had to go home because it was late. C. was out somewhere so I was forced (under protest, you understand) to chat with Miss Shanti for a while. She wanted to present me with something and I nearly said what, you? but I resisted just in time. I had mentioned that her saris were always fantastic and she bought one for me to take home to my mother. She also gave me some earrings and a brooch.

C. came back and we went back to her house, promising to have some formal photos done, which we didn't because she'd gone shopping and when she came back, C. had gone to Vijilia's house to get some tapes she had stolen and when he got back the Rev had turned up (finally!), scaring Miss Shanti away (what was she THINKING, talking to me without a chaperone!).

C. was quite horrible to him but it was the last time we'll ever see him so I persuaded him to be nice. He seemed quite sad, I don't know why, he'd hardly done anything. This is a bit unfair. I just think he never really knew what to do. Maybe he didn't want us to think badly of India and that's why he never took us anywhere. He only wanted us to see the nice things.

We had dinner with a boy called Ben Daniel from VIIc which was another HUGE preparation, they just piled it on and we were forced to leave half of it. His father put a Jim Reeves record on because it's the only Western music they've got. We left politely.

...

Friday morning, 6:30 and there we were again, under the tamarind tree. We took our cameras this time and Miss Shanti (the delightful, angelic, exquisite) came down to watch. We invited her to play - Kumar and me vs. Miss S and Yesu - we won 21-18! and C. took photos.

Yesterday morning was an absolute shambles after our morning exercise. Rev Jothi had promised to come round at 9am to talk about Hinduism and his conversion and Miss Shanti was to come round at 10 for photos. I took Yesu and Sunny-Zip to the phone place to reconfirm our tickets and I bought some smelly powders and things. I couldn't get through to Gulf Air so I went to a Travel Agent to see is they had a number for them. The man at the Agency looked at our tickets (I don't know why - you ask for a phone number and they look at your tickets). Aha! he said, This ticket is only confirmed to Bahrain!

Long, deathly silence.

What? But they confirmed it in Chennai!

Only to Bahrain, not to London

There followed a long and occasionally heated discussion, which largely involved me asking him to phone Gulf Air to check this and him telling me that they'd gone On Leave and I should travel to Madras that night. I asked him to phone his head office and he said there was no point because we're too late and I said just phone anyway, if our tickets ARE confirmed everything will be okay. He said he'd fax them copies of our tickets which they could check on their computer in an hour or too. why not phone, it'll be quicker? I said but he wouldn't.

Two hours I spent remonstrating with this horrible man and he finally phoned his head office who contacted Gulf Air who weren't on leave (Why would they be on leave? Don't be stupid - these tourists, I don't know) who said of COURSE the tickets are confirmed, would you like to re-confirm them?

Why do people DO this to me? Why do they find problems where there aren't any? He even thought he'd SOLVED the problem he'd invented when he found the letter (dated October 8th) that told me about our flight booking. But this letter is SIX MONTHS OLD! I told him. He wouldn't listen. JUST PHONE THEM, WHO CAN IT HURT?!!!

So my last day in Ramnad was blackened by a stupid man who made up his own version of reality. Sunny was overworked - I hope I haven't broken her. When I got back, Rev Jothi had been and gone, as had Miss Shanti, several times. We took the long-promised photographs and C. went to the fish market¹ with Yesu and his camera, leaving me and Miss Shanti (the beautiful, graceful...) to talk about England, India and marriage...

I don't know WHY she's not married, she's beautiful, intelligent (BSc, BEd) and a fantastic person. Apparently her father advertised in the paper (Matrimonials) and the man who replied asked how much money he would get for her. I can only guess what they told him! It's such a terrible way of getting married, where is her value as a human being? She said that most people ask for 5lbs in gold! This is why she has all the family jewellery - her sister's married already. She has so much to offer, but it's nearly too late for her to become a mother. Of course I'd marry her, but it wouldn't work! I'm too young, for a start. Yes, I'm only joking but it's so sad - she's so perfect. But anyway...

We had our last lunch at the HM's and even though I hadn't had any breakfast I wasn't really hungry. We had coconut rice, chicken cutlets and boiled veg. Mmm mmm mmm. Jerry's mother is wonderful and this too is a tragedy. We're leaving so many wonderful people behind.

The afternoon was very strange, we gave most of our things away and sat around. It's funny, but we spent our last four days in Ramnad as if they were any old day. Everyone was happy, or at least pretended to be and life went on. We didn't see Kiruba Teacher, although we met her husband a couple of times and he didn't say anything about us leaving. Most of the schoolchildren were on holiday, but we saw most of the Important People.

C. had about £170 left over so we gave Rs6500 to Rev jothi for the people of Pamban and Rs2500 for the school library. In all reality Rev Jothi is in the most need. Even though Rev Fenn in Madurai does a lot of very good things, he has enough funds. Rev Jothi needs 1 lakh Rupees (Rs100,000) to finish his church, that's £2,000! Maybe I'll just try to get some clothes sent over or something.

Sunday 20th April

On the Train to Chennai

I seem to be writing my diary a day late, so I'll try and catch up now.

Jerry nearly got arrested on Sunny on Friday when he went to the fish market with C. and Yesu. He got a good telling off anyway and C. felt really guilty. But 95% of Indians don't have licenses so the Policeman didn't do anything. Even Miss Shanti doesn't have a licence! If they cracked down it would solve the pollution problem, but would probably add to the poverty problem.

Our last few days have been strangely similar to our first few days. We were staying in the same room, we are travelling back to Madras on the same train (The Vaigai Express) in AC.¹ Last night we had to go to the back where the Chief Reservation Officer got us seats within five minutes. The weirdest of our arriving / leaving coincidences is a man call Ravi who asked me if I remembered him. I met him on the train from Madras to Madurai in October! Haven't seen him since until booking our train home six months later.

On the way back from the station, we watched storm clouds gather and it began to rain just as we reached the Divine Patience, huge warm sticky drops from a previously empty sky. We stayed out in the rain until it turned into hail then escaped inside. Hail! It had been 37 degrees all day then it hails? Aunty Fenn said it was crying for us. It's good and bad, Pastor Fenn told us, some crops will die but others will benefit. Extremely unusual though.

Chennai

I've ended up with a lot less stuff than I thought I had, my bag weighs 14.5 kgs and my hand luggage is almost empty. The bag that I took on the Round Trip is on it's last legs - I hope it'll survive the last journey.

I still don't feel as sad as I should do, probably the excitement of going home has overcome any other emotions. It was much worse when we left in March. Juliet said that the day after we went was like a funeral. She said the morning prayer had to be abandoned and she couldn't face it. But what's going on now? I don't know, life goes on.

Got to be up at 2am tomorrow to be at the airport for 4.

C.'s just told me about Rev Jothi's conversion, so he's the story (as C. tells it):

Rev Jothi's father was a Poojari (is a shrine priest) so he was pretty immersed in Hinduism. He had a friend who was a Christian and when he went to his friend's house they would pray and he'd laugh at them, boasting about how Ganesh (his personal God) was better than theirs. When his tenth standard exams came around he was studying with his friend at the station and his friend suggested having a bit of a pray for good luck. Jothi laughed and said there was no need for him to pray because Ganesh is the God of wisdom and would help him regardless.

So his friend prayed by himself for a long time and Jothi mocked him for wasting valuable study time. The paper was algebra and it came to the exam poor young Jothi just couldn't do it. His friend got top marks. The rules at the time were that if you failed one exam you had to re-take them all.

So, disgraced by his family and failed by his God, Jothi decided that if he passed second time around he'd become a Christian and if he failed again he'd become an atheist.

But he passed and went to see the local priest who said that he'd need a letter from his father giving permission for his baptism. His father refused and Jothi threatened to kill himself (apparently common among children who fail exams) and he relented.

After becoming a Christian, Jothi's uncle accosted him when he (Jothi) walked past his (his uncle's) shop. He shouted at him in the street and a big crowd came to stare and laugh. When he went home his parents told him that now he was a Christian he was no better than a Dalit so although he was allowed to stay with them, he had to eat all his meals separately, from different dishes and he had to wash outside. He went to see the priest again who suggested he went to Bible School.

He was named 'Jothi', which means 'Light' by his parents because he was born during Deepavali, the Festival of Lights. After his baptism he was called 'Nayagam', which means 'Leader' so his full name (Jothinayagam) means 'Leader of the Light'.

I wish I had a testimony like this. Maybe I should become an atheist to see what trials and tribulations I have to go through to be reconverted.

While shopping in Madurai, I had an incredibly interesting conversation with a Muslim bloke in one of the Government Emporiums. He told me that he reads the Bible but that he doesn't understand the way it is written and re-written and changed again and again. How can we believe it when we don't know whether it is authentic? The Holy Quran has never been changed. We say it's the Word of God and yet we question everything in it. For him, if it's written down, he has to believe it, no questions asked. He told me a story about Abraham and some King:

The King says to Abraham, I am as powerful as God, I have the power over life and death! He says to his guards, Kill this man and they kill him. Abraham remains unfazed and says, Yes, but only God can bring him back to life.

The King isn't too pleased with this, Shut up or I'll put you in that fire, he says. Abraham goes, Alright, only don't burn my robes coz they're new last Tuesday, but God WILL protect me anyway. The King has him put into the fire.

Various angels come to Abraham and offer their services, but he declines them all. Finally God himself turns up and tells the fire to cool down. FIRE! He says, Cool down! The fire does what it's told and Abraham is unharmed.

...

Now this Muslim chap believes this word for word and he HAS to believe it because it's written in the Holy Quran. It's made me think about a lot of things though, it's the SAME Abraham, they say. Muslims believe in all the prophets and that Mohamed was the last. Because he was the last, they believe that Islam is the truest, the newest religion. They believe in Jesus, the resurrection and the ascension. They believe that Jesus is the one who will come again because he ascended in Body ans well as in Soul.

So where do we stand? Are they the same, just different roads to the same hilltop? I'd like to know, but I'll have to be happy with the thought, the idea that they are.

Monday 21st April

ON THE PLANE

And this is really it now, all that anticipation and worry will soon be in the past. We're flying from Bahrain to Heathrow and there's seven-odd hours to go. We got up at 2am because we had to check in at 4 but didn't actually check in til 5 because the flight before us was going to Colombo, Sri Lanka so security was pretty thorough. We met an American chap who is Tamil, but is doing medicine in New York. He's very nice and has stayed with us because it helps him get through customs quicker.¹

Everyone's being nice to us! It'll be different in England though. The plane's full of white people which is only natural but so strange! I can't believe that we're actually here and nearly home after all this time. This is when we realise what we've really done. My mind hasn't registered properly - I think that's it, I know I'm going home, but don't really believe it.

Aunty Fenn kissed us goodbye when we left Madurai, which is the closest we've come to any Indian lady. It really hurt that we couldn't hug or even shake hands with the HM or Miss Shanti (...). Contact is still very important to us and I missed it terribly. With most of our closest friends in India being women, you can imagine what it's been like.

The time has gone by so quickly - our memory of the flight to India is still very vivid. I remember the first night in Madurai - sleeping until 2pm and our first meal with the Fenn's. I remember our first visit to Ramnad, the incomprehension, the embarrassment and the hopelessness. It's all like it happened yesterday.

The thing is, I still remember USPG, but they've had no part in our placement. It grew into a lie whenever we told people that we are representing them (USPG) and the church. The only thing that has made it worthwhile from a World Church point of view is our contact with Rev. Jothi. We should be able to help him.

Otherwise the whole experience has been totally personal. I haven't done this for anyone but myself. It's such an amazing thing to do, living with people - you see such a unique version of the world. It gives you a sense of purpose, gathering knowledge and compassion, a wider awareness rather than just quick holiday snaps. The real point is what do you do with this knowledge?

Ah well, I don't know what I'm going to do as far as other people are concerned but it's been a great personal advancement for me. We came home at the right time, I think. I can't wait.

...

Here the diary ends, with a lovely photo of us with Miss Shanti. The back of the book is full of little goodbye notes from our friends and my choir, I'll add these at some point - whenever I get my scanner working!

When we arrive, I hardly say anything. In fact it's a few days before I feel able to speak even to my family again, a mourning process perhaps. Undergoing reverse culture shock. I do a few talks about my trip, to the Mother's Union, the Church etc. I make my photo albums and leave the diaries on a shelf.

Ten years down the line it's hard to remember the finer details, but at least now I have somewhere to jot down little things as they come to me. The whole exercise has been very worthwhile though, I don't want to forget these days.

I still have vague plans to go back, I have of course lost touch with everybody in the diaries, it all petered out after a few months but India has and will always be a very special place for me.

I've found a great SATELLITE VIEW of where we lived and worked, on Wikimapia.