This is India

You really come into yourself and find the core of adamant strength inside yourself while facing a true problem that nobody other than yourself can do something about, although there are plenty of people in your backspace all the while. I had lots of money stolen, and though maybe it did lower my level of happiness these past days by an inch, following the one hour of crying when I realised it was gone, and waking up the next morning to realise that it wasn't all a horrible nightmare, I accepted it. At least it was only money. I moved on.

I read up on my insurance (if I got kidnapped or hit by a tsunami, I'd be bloody rich!) asked around and am trying to figure out what to do next. And it's fine. The whole situation has me kind of proud of myself. I'll do as much as I can to sort out what I can, and I am glad to have enough strength in myself to not freak out and just accept the irregularities of life.

It's only money after all.

I sat on my loft today looking out across the bunker loo and the surrounding forest and I was struck by a sense of homeliness. I love being in Auroville and India in particular, but I've thoroughly enjoyed the idea of going home, alhough now as I today cycled away from Solitude farm for the last time, smiling at the bear-hug that wonderful Khaled gave me as we parted, the goodbyes and farewells and the feeling that I will be missed; I realised that I too will miss this. I will miss India. A lot.

Sitting on the loft I could picture myself in a simple house in the forest, farming everyday, leading his life of muddy roads and hectic huge cities. I could stay here. Despite the mosquitos and huge spiders that seem to be cropping up everywhere more and more. Despite the lack of internet and newspapers and good coffee and toilet paper, and the choir of lizards that sing their nocturnal serenda for you just as the first minutes of sleep begin to draw you in. I could. Stay. But I do look forward to going home. And I hope to be able to hold on to a little bit of India. Showering with a bucket I have taken to immensely. I saves so much water I can't stand the idea that I would shower with constantly running water. The mere idea seems stupid and ridiculous.

The bindi feels normal too, I find that my face looks odd without it, but I fear it might give the wrong impression about my character and I despite the prejudice of generalisation.

I needed India in order to come back into myself, face the hysterical cities with cool, get on a train and ride the black torrent of loneliness through to Destination Unknown, lose fear and understand that though the heart of man may seem brittle at times, the soul is strong, and knowing that you possess that strength will get you through anything from bad directions, to wrong trains, to traffic accidents, to long dark lonely streets and the confusing labyrinth of beaurocracy.

And when you have in your backspace the wonderful mix of a wonderful mom, some random guys ready to shove all their money and possessions into your hands without a moment's hesitance, people in every continent of the world that you love and that love you, nothing can truly go wrong in life.