Pines To Pune

by Mandisa Reid (Barbados)

I didn't expect to find India

1030 Kilometers! 20hours and 25minutes! The endless distance and time between Mysore, Karnataka to Pune, Maharashtra, India. At 5:00AM I awake with reluctance. After a thirty minute snooze I jump out of the “serviced apartment” bed and rush into the shower, shove my remaining items into my suitcases and run out with phone in hand as I order an Ola rickshaw ride. “5 minutes” the driver says. Five minutes later I call back to which he replies, “5 minutes”. I sternly explain that my train leaves in 20 minutes and the train station is 15 minutes away so if we do the Math that leaves me 0 minutes to get out of his rickshaw and board the train. Within record time I arrive at the station to find the first ever bag check at an Indian train station. Barrelling through the crowd I am halted at the escalator where three sari-robed ladies are patiently using it for their fear-fighting exercise. Fear eventually won the fight as I reflexively pull my two large suitcases aside to let them jump off the first step. Reaching the top floor I look around for a sign saying Pune. My eyes only see text looking like: “पढाए हिंदी रहारुप अनुवाद कार्यलय मुख्य” A distant look enters the eyes of a jet black mouthstached man dressed in 80's clothing as I ask him which train goes to Pune? At the end of the bridge I make out the word "Pune" on a sign on an empty platform except for a single man checking each door of the 1800s built train. I tumble my suitcases down the stairs and run towards the back of the train as my nose hits wafts of human waste at the front of the train. With all my might I lift my suitcases onto the train as it slowly starts to roll. Following my failed visit to Mysore I was elated to have caught the train at all. Finding my "Air Conditioned 3 tier" seat seemingly filled, I moved to another empty seat which happened a few times throughout this journey as this ‘express’ train stopped at each local stop and new guests took their designated seats. This was ultimately a good thing since it left me little time to dwell on the fact that the Principal of the oldest and widely considered best Ayurveda (5,000 year old Indian medicine) College in India rejected my request to study there - my entire purpose for coming to India. Eventually, I found my originally designated seat and settled in next to three college Art students and a man as old as Ayurveda itself. The irony I thought! The train rolled on and the morning light streaming through the train soon turned to afternoon light. The three students could hold their curiosity no longer and one finally asked, “Your country?” I thought this would be much easier if I had a sign saying Barbados and a drawing of its location. By the looks of me every person I spoke with asked the same question and inevitably thought Barbados was in Africa. To my surprise and relief, these students were much more familiar with the world map. This started a robust conversation filled with shared photos of their work and photos of New York art galleries I had visited along with hearty conversations of Indian history, religion, culture and complexities. By the time evening evidenced itself with artificial light we had gathered quite a crowd. Guests from other cars found their way to our now actually overcrowded seat. Sleeper beds were unfurled and more seats were created. Three tier, I then learned meant three sleeper beds on one wall. Three old ladies who squeezed in opposite us laid out a feast to which the gathered party of train staff, families, single men, students and me devoured. I went to sleep around midnight with a smile on my face and the dream of connecting with one of my new friends who promised to introduce me to an original Ayurveda Siddhi who learned by apprenticeship from a true guru. The prickly pine of this trip turned out to have the fragrance of Christmas.