"He reached enlightenment right there, to the left of the Muslim graveyard and behind the field of bubble-cloud tour buses. Behind the dust, dust, dust; behind the omnipresent beggars of Bihar swarming here not for Buddha, but for you foriegners shedding cash, cash, cash. Please partake in prostrations at the Mahabodhi temple, and cheesecake at the cafe."
Enlightenment, arre!
It started with my attempts to gain acceptance to a meditation retreat - ten days without talking or writing or reading would surely clear me of my mellon collie mind, but no - I applied too late, and instead arrived in Bodhgaya to hop between its diverse consumer offerings of internet cafes, restaurants and travel agencies. Even the monks were shopping.
I participated in intramural sports - me against the mosquitos, in my lovely chalky white-walled room. I'd say I slayed close to fifty, with the back of my Hindi notebook (now a truly branded memory of India), and protected myself from their fleeting buzzes while sleeping by covering my head with a "Ram Sita Ram" imprinted sarong. A lesson in the preventative measures against mosquito-borne illness.
Arre - I concede that being tagged as "cynical" or "sarcastic" comes in frequent regularity by those whom I tend to hit it off with in hearty discourse. But...but...here's a pretty picture:
"No, no...I like it. It's a nice change from the happy-go-lucky traveler."
I attest: fuck this; I'm going to Howrah.
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