hello, goodbye

As I sit in a Colaba hotel in Mumbai, the honking of cars and other nuisances of city life screaming four stories below, I can’t help but think of my friends at the RDC with nostalgia. I never thought I would miss cows, cow shit, more cows, goats, buffalo, bullocks, no toilet, no electricity, no internet, mosquitoes, oh wait they’re still buzzing, oh lets not forget all the random people transfixed, staring while we carried on the minutiae of our daily lives, taking pictures with their cameras phones, holding one of my dreadlocks up with amazement and wondering where these strange folk had come from. These mild inconveniences, however, came coupled with a rural family that will be greatly missed. Despite the language barrier, we communicated in the language of love and compassion, of understanding for our fellow man. Worlds apart, we became friends, more than friends for they made sure we were fed and taken care of and we in turn, always greeted them with a jubilant “good morning” and tried to show our appreciation. As we said our goodbyes, Kaku, head woman in charge of the kitchen, warned me not to cry as her stern look gave way to watery eyes. Archana, head woman in charge of the kitchen too, cried with me as I hugged them multiple times. Captain and Gule, head men not in charge, hehehe, were a little emotional if not shocked by my sudden hug (oh screw it; I said to myself, I know it’s inappropriate but I’ll miss the hell out of them too). Oh and little Ashok with his incomprehensible amount of energy, for he is a small boy for his age, screaming “titi, breakfast.”
Once in the car it was easier to let go, the steel box acting as a barrier between this rural world we were departing and mobility, detachment. Taking in my last glimpses of sugar cane fields, saried woman with heavy loads of wash, burning wood, water, and what have you, cows, cow shit, goats, buffalo, bullocks, I felt guilty that the pain in my chest had subsided considerably. These people had forever changed my life but how much more greatly had I changed theirs? I will continue on to bigger and greener pastures and they will remain in their post, perhaps wondering what happened to that crazy dreadlocked dancing fool. But perhaps I underestimate the impact they’ve had on my life. Perhaps the traffic below is stifling the cries of a melancholic heart.