540 Words
India - Illusions and Truths
In spite of my 5'10" frame, it is still difficult to pee into the wall-mounted pink porcelain sink. Freud could be right. This would be much easier with different equipment.
I hear the creaking groan and know my weight is going to tear it from its perch. My Hindi consists of one word, certainly not enough of a vocabulary to explain to my India guesthouse hosts another weird Western habit that results in ripping sinks from walls.
I spot the orange plastic stool that would give me enough of a step up. Keeping my eyes trained on the hand-sized spider straddling the inside of the toilet, I scoot forward - nightie clutched in one hand - and grab the little bench. I knock the plastic one-liter measuring cup from its perch on the tap. It crashes and skitters against the tile. Great...now, I'm breaking their bidet equipment.
I'm taking no chances as I do a high-speed reverse moonwalk back to the sink. My heart keeping time to my fleeing feet.
One needs to be adaptable when traveling. I repeat that to myself. I also try the Hindu philosophy of, "All is Maya." Everything is an illusion. Our reality is of our own making. And I agree with myself…to a point...it seems a rather substantial illusion.
Stepping back and up onto my perch, I am able to finally find relief without putting any weight on the ceramic edge. With my eyes still riveted on the spider-monster, I back out of the bathroom, wondering again at the deadbolts on the top and bottom side of the bathroom door. I don't get it. Why would you want to be able to lock the outside of a bathroom door? Nevertheless, it certainly works for me now. I bolt both top and bottom securely and scurry back under the mosquito-netted bed. I tuck it around me tightly, hoping there's nothing else that can penetrate the netting.
I've proven my adaptability. But what about the Maya thing? If the spider is an illusion, a manifestation of all my cumulative traveling-alone-in-India-fears, then will it photograph? Or is it like ghosts, where nothing shows up? I want proof. Who's going to believe a 2:34 a.m. spider story? Fear and nighttime tends to magnify things.
Pulling back the net, I flash-back instantly to the terrors of being five, as I dare to step off the safety of my raft-bed into the nightmare sea of the dark. Moving quickly, I snap on the fluorescent lights. The room buzzes with the jittery light as I grab my camera. Click on the telephoto lens. I don't want to have to get too close.
The 8" dead-bolts clunk back and echo in the cavernous tiled room. I push the door open slowly. The flattish spider with its thick grey legs stands out against the pink rim. He hasn't moved. The lens zooms in on him. Too close. I shut my eyes and click. Then do it again. I swing the door shut, locking him back into his habitat.
I need to sleep quickly. At 4:30 a.m., my guide will be here to take me to Kaziranga National Park to ride an elephant. He won't know I've already had a rather large wildlife encounter.
Go to India: www.incredibleindia.org |
