I’ve started to visualize the time I’ve already spent and I am going to spend here in Tirmasahun as sand in an hourglass.
While not the most original, it is by far the most fitting analogy for several reasons.
The moment I realized that I was going to be here for two months came crashing down on me as soon as I arrived here in the village. Just like the moment someone turns over the hourglass at the beginning of a round in the party game “Cranium”.
So the sand, the events, moments, and time have been trickling down. The glass was slowly emptying. But I was still comfortable with the time I’m spending here, just like the player who takes his time drawing the object the other must guess, enjoying every moment and savoring every detail.
My previous blog entry described the time I spent here with both Tara and Evelyn, but they travelled to another project several weeks ago, leaving me as the only westerner in this small part of India. Luckily they left me with a very capable young man, Krishna, our water-project manager. Although his English is somewhat limited, he’s always able to keep me in the loop during a conversation or helps me get around all the hamlets. I even get to ride his motorbike (for the cost of paying for the petrol). Without Krishna my stay would be a great deal harder.
But being the only white boy in town means people will stare and take pictures, and stare and take selfies, and stare and group around me when I’m speaking to a shop keeper, school headmaster or someone else who is interested in knowing where I’m from or why I’m in such a rural region of India.
I do not have Evelyn’s ability to blend in with the crowd, no matter how much I try or wear local scarves or a very nice, tailored Kurta (long, Indian top).
But even those moments where all attention is focused on me have their positive sides. Several village headmen invited me to ringside seats in a wrestling tournament, for example, and I usually get a somewhat special treatment during visits or other social events. All of which I am still not accustomed to at all, and although I enjoy it very much, I am looking forward becoming another face in the crowd again.
But the sand, the events and time, are passing. By the beginning of November I realized I had been here for a whole month, and I started to look toward the day I leave, like the moment where the player in my analogy slowly gets nervous when his teammate still hasn’t figured out the drawing.
So I have started to pick up my efforts even more, for the water project, the classes or my interaction with the people here. Just to make sure I’m not missing anything. I’m even taking part in the daily cricket matches close to the center.
But more time has passed and I’ve tried to disprove my mother’s “You’ll be back before you know it”. I definitely was in India before I knew it; suddenly I was a stranger in a strange land. And I don’t want that feeling to overwhelm me again.
And yet I’ve already bought my tickets to Delhi over Agra. And my time here is now limited to a mere two weeks. And so the sand drops onto a steadily growing pile and our player has reached a point where he almost wants to scream the answer because time is so short and yet the answer so far.
About the moments I’ve experienced here, as there are always good and bad, let me say this:
The good ones will always stay in my heart.
And let me say this about the bad, I now know where the local “wine” shop is.
Alex for United for Hope