INDIA BY ROAD AND RAIL

So yesterday I finally came to the point which had to come - leaving the Babs (albeit temporarily) and heading off into India. I spent the day travelling - four hours on a government bus to Mangalore and then ten on a train to Cochi... The adventure begins!

The Babs gave me the most beautiful send-off. It had been a fairly intense few days as the moment of leaving approached. I had really come to love them and the place. Rarely have I felt so happy, so part of something, so wanted and welcome - by teachers and kids alike - and so satisfied that what I was doing was of value. And spiritually it was so enriching. On the penultimate day I went up into the Koorg hills for a final walk on my own and found myself justing sitting and staring, my heart bursting at the beauty of the place. As I said before, the landscape here is the greatest Temple of all. Just beautiful. Like nothing I have ever seen or encountered. And all there for free. I spent most of the time trying to burn the landscape onto my memory...

But this was coupled with some real sadness and doubt. Was I able to leave the love and support and safe haven of the school behind? Could I wrench myself away from the beautiful kids? I began fighting new doubts and sadnesses and fears.

Then things got quite intense. One of the kids, one of the littlest, Little Suresh (or 'Baldy Suresh' as he became known after his hair had been cut) found his way into my hut and walked off with all my little Indian statues which he then hid and forgot where he had hidden them. It was very odd as I loved Suresh and regularly carried him on my back, played with him and gave him hugs all the time. It was a very strange thing for this to happen. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the school and its enclosed feel which intensified it but it felt traumatic. Everyone agreed. Perhaps Suresh was subconsciously not wanting me to leave? Who knows?

Two of the statues - a Siva and a Ganesh - were found. Ironically, just on the eve of a major festival to Siva which was to take place. This is known as Sivaswati and devout Hindus stay up all night chanting to Siva. Not liking group rituals much - they freak me out - I agreed to take part and we went up into the hills to light a fire for the festival while the kids built Lingams to commemorate Siva. It was very intense and after an hour of everyone chanting and throwing rice into the fire I couldn't take much more. For all my interest in this stuff I don't like intruding on a festival, not because I don't take it seriously but because I DO take it seriously. I feel like an imposter and am also very aware and sensitive to the energies flying about. PLus Siva is a pretty intense God - the Destroyer - and I wasn't sure what I was really taking part in. Exhausted, I went to bed. Perhaps Siva was doing his bit to continue to smash up the vestiges of resistance I was still putting up to India so as to open me up to what was to come. Who knows?

People may be surprised by my reaction to this. The truth is that had I lived in those days I would probably have been a solitary, a contemplative, seeking my own communion in my own way rather than in a large group. So as to keep people guessing, all my experience of this stuff has been private, internal and not external. Its about my own Soul, not ritual or gatherings. Its why I don't belong to any religion or group. A spiritual Lone Gunman if you like!

Anyway, the next day the other two statues appeared - Brahma and Krishna, the counterbalance to Siva and Ganesh. My last day with the kids was very moving, but a last trip into Madikeri freaked me out again. Its a poor city and the pain there struck me once more. Was this what I was leaving the School to encounter?

Returning to the School for the last evening, however, the Babs gave me this beautiful send off which just lefty a vast sense of love and kindness in my heart. They performed all the little plays I had been working on with them and did them wonderfully - with real heart. And the kids watching were so absorbed and loving towards them that I was reminded of the energy of theatre when it has no pretensions about it. THey sang me songs and overwhelmed me with a massive group hug - 'We love you, Uncle' they all cried and wouldn't let me go. For several hours afterwards as I was packing they appeared at my door with little drawings and messages they had written thanking me for all I had done and how I had helped them overcome shyness. It was beautiful.

I slept well and they were there to see me off the next day. Baldy Suresh gave me a big hug and a number of kisses on my cheek and I set off to get my bus, deciding I would return in my last week in India to see them before I go. Now when I think of their smiling faces I feel very strong - little Amitha, whose eyes are so vivid and full of energy but with the voice of a 60-year old smoker (!!!), pixie-like Devi whose spriteliness never stops, wise Anjinama who I would trust with my life with her kindness and loyalty, Marti, whose smile would stretch across continents, Manjanath, whose sensitivity and wisdom beyond years has him have visions when he sleeps, Navindra and Rajindra, lovely brothers who watch out for each other, space-cadet Siva, who looks as Chinese as an Indian can and has a war-cry 'GINGER! GINGER!' which became the war-cry of the school, Baldy Suresh, who showed me how wonderful it was to be 4 and unself-conscious... and so many others... I won't forget them!

So then buses and trains. What a wonderful experience! The four hour bus journey across the most stunning landscape was unforgettable. I took out a book to read but didn't open it for the whole time, so glued to the window was I. And then a glimpse of the Arabian Sea as we arrived in Mangalore.

From then on an auto-rickshaw to the Station which is exactly as you would imagine it: a sun-baked sea of people of all cultures and hues (including a few sweaty Westerners like me!) all looking to go somewhere. Getting on the train the heat was unbearable. Sweat was literally dripping off me in huge globs. I looked in the mirror and realised I was covered in shit from the bus journey. WHat had started out as a white T shirt was now brown. But no matter. A fine Hindu gentleman who was on a trip to see his Swami befriended me and welcomed me to the train. His warmth was very important in helping me settle! His grandkids were there and they played up and down. Realising how exhausted I was, I lay down and rested for a few hours, occasionally looking out of the window at the gasp-inducing landscape going by - pal-trees as far as the eye can see, football pitch-sized schoolyards filled with children, women wandering through forests with baskets on their heads, all elegant in their saris, sudden glistening rivers appearing out of the foliage with vast bridges stretching across them. Truly, I thought, the real wonder of this country is its landscape. Tough though life may be, the natural beauty around everything makes the mind explode with wonder...

And then I was engaged in conversation by a couple of Indian gents who were travelling home on the train after a day's business. How freaked out one would be if this happened in the UK. But this is India, where people are different (and the journeys very long). They gave me so much travel advice which I would not have had otherwise. They also made sure I got some food on the way. I felt very welcome and very safe.

Then at midnight Ernakalum station where I was getting off. As if to ensure I did, various Indian travellers appeared who offered to help me get off with them. THe heat of the night hit me - Kerala is very hot! - and then the organised chaos of teh rickshaws and the journey to the hotel.

So here I am, about to head out to Fort Cochin. THe next part of the adventure begins! Watch this space!