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.