In search of sunrise

I have just finished reading Shantaram, all 932 pages of it; one of the most intensely rich and emotional journeys I have been on while reading. On closing the book I feel a sense of mixed emotions bubbling inside me but a release from the never ending rollercoaster I felt while reading that book – the incredible strife and pain which those people endured in this magical country, India, which I now find myself it.

Having slept only 3 ½ hours last night, I woke before dawn at around 4am. I fumbled my way to the aircraft that was to carry me across the breathtaking scenery and mountains of southern India. Perhaps it was no more beautiful or dramatic than any other scenery I have seen from an aeroplane but for some reason today, alone and in my tired and emotionally sensitive state it seemed to catch something deep inside me that wanted to love and be loved. I found myself reading and reading and reading – on that rollercoaster - feeling a deep and profound sense of gratitude and joy only to be followed by numbness, a dull aching from the loss of love in my life some months ago. I still grieve that loss now.

While my life moves on and I am set free, excited, and inspired by the unfolding magic that is all around us, today has been one of those tired days, much of it caught up in the rollercoaster of Shantaram or reminiscing the past like a fish struggling in vain to break free from a tangled net.

And yet I know deep in my heart that I am free. It was brought home to me every time I read those stories of suffering and strife in Shantaram, or when I see the enormous disparity between rich and poor out here, between my life and theirs. I do not need to work for a living out here. I can enjoy eating in restaurants, talking to loved ones on the phone and travelling by aeroplane; watching the mountains cut through the beautiful yet desolate patchwork below me, and the wisps of cloud mirroring back to me my freedom, my ability to just let go. And all the while others sleep under moonlight, on the side of the street, with nothing – no home, no healthcare, and perhaps worst of all, no hope.

And so I continue to let go… and just trust.

Having landed safely I find myself in a taxi with no seat belts hurtling through the organized anarchy of Chennai while children play on rubbish tips, or perhaps they are scavenging. And I trust, I have no choice but to trust. That’s the difference between faith and fear – choosing to trust. But sometimes we have no choice but to trust. I love those exhilarating adventures where we have no choice than to trust, to go with the flow. Perhaps that’s what life is all about, an exhilarating adventure where we have no choice but to trust.

Eventually I reach the beach in Mamallapuram which has fishermen, and dogs, and cows and people, and street vendors and tourists and the wind rushing up off the Indian Ocean into my face kissing me with warmth and a waking freshness. And I am deeply grateful. All the emotions I have are merely expressions of love, for love is the place that allows all other emotions to flourish.

Tomorrow I set off early, in search of sunrise and Pondicherry on a 350 Enfield Bullet, only the 3rd time I have ridden a motorbike since I crushed two vertebrae in my spine some 12 years ago. Trust… At least I chose somewhere safe in the world to get back on the old horse… where they drive so sensibly!

Until next time…