People in transit

Sometimes, some people cross your path on their way to wherever. And then you get bits and pieces of their thoughts on why they lug that backpack around wherever their feet take them. They leave a little of themselves behind, more than empty water bottles, footprints at your doorstep and the faint scent of cologne hanging in the air.

There’s Devanna, a half-Chilean, half-Italian 20-something girl who has just finished her master’s and have been doing the rounds in Bangladesh and more recently in India to visit women’s organizations.

I met her about a month ago through a friend during a Scottish dance party here in Delhi. I enjoyed our long talks about the plight of women in India, the questionable motives of charity, and the short-term memory loss of men who ask for your number but never call. We went salsa dancing with my friends one night before she took the train to Rajasthan the following day.

Right about now she’s in Gujarat while her backpack sits in our living room. She originally planned to fly to London on the first week of March but apparently got stuck with the NGO she was seeing, though she said she’d rather be moving on with her trip. She comes back to Delhi in a couple of weeks with loads of stories.

Then there’s John and Zab, two British chaps who have earmarked the next seven months of their life touring the world just because. John is Mel’s friend way back when they worked together in France. First leg of their journey was India and that’s when yet another couple of huge backpacks parked in our living room. They were supposed to go to Nepal but changed plans due to the Maoist conflicts there. They detoured to the Philippines where they are probably sunning themselves just about now. Then they head off to Hong Kong, China, Australia, U.S., Argentina and I’ve lost track where else. I remember they were going to do Vegas, drive on open road somewhere in the States and bunjee jump in Australia.

Just before they left our flat I asked them why they do what they do. John said something about living in your own bubble when there is so much culture to experience. Zab said something about finding himself. I hope you guys do. Seven months is a long stretch but when you’re discovering so many new things and meeting new people, you’re bound to grow up faster than your sideburns would and before you know it, you’re heading back home. Safe travels, guys.

And then there’s Frank, married to my dear friend Amihan. Frank is coming from Switzerland and plans to do volunteer work with the Tibetans in Dharamsala then head south to Mysore and Bangalore. And his drop-off point is, where else.

I don’t mind it at all to have these people coming and going. It gives me a glimpse of people’s lives and makes me reflect on my own. These feet still have a lot of miles to cover. For now, I sit in my living room connecting with people in transit.