Posting another creation!

Hello Everyone!

Just thought I would pop in to say hi! I hope you are all going well on this lovely month of June! Anyway, this semester is nearly done! SO FAST. And with that, I thought I would post one of my latest!

ENJOY!


Amidst the Land of Billions

By Jacqui Menard



I ventured down a bend I’d never been before. The air around me grew thick with the smell of rotting garbage and urine. Through the endless circles of shops in Connaught Place I realized I was lost. There were no more tourists and pushy shop vendors, children selling trinkets, or auto drivers out to make a quick buck. With my stomach in knots, I frantically walked along the uneven sidewalk searching for some signs of life. I tried convincing myself I knew where I was going, but amidst this desolate roadway, I longed for my sister. My heart began to race, and my breathing grew heavy as I picked up my pace and followed the sounds of congested traffic and obnoxious car horns. Past raggedy street dogs and white boarded up buildings, I turned my pace into a slow jog, rounded another corner and stopped short only to gasp. Sprawled out on a mat and covered with a grey woolen blanket lay a man that looked like death. His arms and legs: nothing but skin and bones, his hair: a faint tuft of black, his eyes: sunken and lifeless. It was in that moment I felt as though I truly got to know India. I tried not to stare as I continued on my way, but took one last look over my shoulder and wondered if he was actually breathing.





As the plane touches down, I begin to feel nervous. My sister and I were never really close. She moved to India to work in education, and I journeyed to Malaysia to live with my parents after high school. Taxiing towards New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi airport it hit me, I was about to spend three months of summer with the one sibling I felt I never really knew, and the only thing separating us now were the official procedures of international travel.


I leave the plane, head to pick up my luggage and feel like I’m drowning in a sea of ethnicity as I anxiously approach the carousel. Suddenly, Sikhs wrapped up in the most brilliant colored turbans, grubby looking Western backpackers and Chinese business men in suits all close in around me. People are every where by the time our luggage journeys up the belt; I fight my way through the crowd with my trolley, curse the madness and wait.


My bag’s one of the last ones up, I lug it from the belt and walk through the exit doors. I do a quick scan of faces and not to far up a head in the distance I see her, my older sister Jen, a visiting citizen of India. I maneuver through the masses of people and depart through the rope barricades that separate us. Jen waits at the end in her Indian style blouse, while her friends stand along side her. I fall into her arms and we hug one another so tight I could’ve sworn we’d each broken something. She introduces her friends to me as Adytita and Manavi, and together we leave the airport and walk out into the darkness on that sweltering New Delhi night in July.


The following morning I’m introduced to Dhaneshwar, or as my sister playfully refers to him as, Denny.


‘Wooow,’ he looks me up and down. ‘Jacqui didi very...long,’ he exclaims as he demonstrates the length of my five foot eleven inch frame.


We all laugh, he hands us each a bowl of freshly cut fruits, picks up two cups of chai tea and leads us out into the lounge. He sets down our glasses, motions us to eat and then leaves. I watch as he goes and feel guilty that he isn’t joining us for breakfast.


Coming from North America, it was a big culture shock for me to watch a stranger prepare our morning meal, and for Jen, it was initially uncomfortable as well. However, after a few days with ‘Denny,’ she quickly realized what a ‘treat’ it was to have him. Jen found that the more time she spent with Dhaneshwar, the more this likeable Nepalese native was becoming more of a friend then her servant.


I make small talk with Jen over breakfast about the year that was. She tells me stories about what it was like those first few days in New Delhi; immersed in a new culture, scared and all alone.


I listen intently, finish my fruits and think it couldn’t have been that bad.





A herd of cows wonder past my sister’s place, I watch them and wonder where there going as the rays of the afternoon sun beat down on us. Jen’s been patiently bargaining with an auto rickshaw driver while I hide from the sun. Finally, after a mini lecture on honesty, she agrees to his price.


‘This is the best price madams,’ he says as he wobbles his head.


Jen and I squeeze in. The driver revs his little engine, a puff of black exhaust trails behind us, and we peel off around the corner and out into mayhem.


My heart jumps into my throat, the wind coats my hair with a film of dust, and I grip down on my seat.


We dodge boney looking dogs, woman balancing baskets on their heads, cows who stand fearlessly along inner city roundabouts and school kids who cleverly avoid on coming traffic as though they’re trapped inside the game Frogger.


We stop at a red light, only to find ourselves lost inside a school of cars, diesel buses and trucks, autos and motorbikes.


A little boy in tattered clothes darts across the road and approaches us,


‘One chapatti madam please?’


The light turns, our driver propels us forward, Jen smiles at ‘everyday India,’ and I feel as though I should’ve gotten out and bought him a warm meal, which at the minimum would’ve cost me under seven US dollars.


Finally, we reach Connaught Place alive. I smooth out my hair and Jen pays our driver. He burns rubber around the corner, while we fight the crowds and head towards the travel agency to pay for our train tickets to Mumbai.


We’re excited. Jen needs to be there to talk to local high school students, but we’ll also be touring around, visiting iconic places such as Gateway to India and Fashion Street. But amidst our itinerary of history and culture, I can’t help but to wonder if we’ll experience the glitz of Bollywood, rub shoulders with the rich, or break out in song and dance numbers at the most inappropriate of times.





The Rajdhani Express approaches the station seventeen hours later after leaving New Delhi. We stare out our window and watch as the local Mumbai train sets out on its morning commute. Sitting in the comfort of our carriage, I feel as though we’ve suddenly exploded onto the pages of National Geographic as we watch people swell out the sides of the train, or hang along its roof top as it lunges full speed ahead until it finally disappears into a blanket of smog.


On our way down to Mumbai we were really excited, we’d never traveled by train in India and we both new this was going to be an adventure. However, after a weekend of sightseeing and shopping we were both ‘trained out,’ reluctant to endure the long journey home.


Jen and I walk down the isle to find our seats. Seventeen more hours cooped up, another yellow dhal and chapatti dinner, a tin squatter toilet that proved difficult to aim, and we’re more then happy to return to our comforts in New Delhi


Shortly upon returning, Jen’s good friend, a former Miss India competitor, calls her up; she’s come to Delhi to visit her boyfriend and they want to get together with us. We agree to meet them at Mocha, one of India’s hippest café chains. We talk gossip, fashion and she tells us what it’s like trying to break out into Bollywood as a premature celebrity. I’m excited that even though I didn’t rub shoulders with the rich in Mumbai; I’m sitting here conversing with an up and coming star. I finish my cappuccino, put down my cup and wonder if now would be the best time to express myself through some cheesy song and dance number.


Sitting on my bean bag chair in Mocha while watching locals smoke sheesha pipes, I’d listen to Jen’s tales of survival. Like the one where she tried figuring out a mishap in her electricity bill with employees who spoke little if any English. I smile, for never would I’ve imagined my sister a grown up, surviving in the land of billions, on a sub continent far, far away from home.





We’ve been invited to a friend’s wedding in Kashmir. Our last month together in India and we’re sitting on the floor of a tent watching the bride get serenaded by aunties and sisters who paint up her arms and down her fingers with henna.


On that cool Kashmiri night in August, I couldn’t help but feel for the young woman whose destiny awaited her with a man she barely knew. I look over at Jen and feel sad. Sad for the bride and sad that in a week’s time she’d be forced to leave me behind, due to a ticketing problem on my part, while she heads back to Canada on business.


After two full days of eating, living with a traditional Kashmiri family and waking up to the beauty of the Himalayas and its back to Delhi.


For any traveler in Delhi, it’s clear to see that it’s a tough city. You’ve gotta be strong and clear when moving about, or you run the risk of getting ‘ripped off’ and ruining an adventure of a life time.


The whole flight back down to Delhi, I’m anxious. What will do by myself for two weeks? How will I survive? I’ve never lived by alone and I’ve got no real friends in this city, except of course for Denny.





I’ve been alone for a week and I’m lost, there’s not a soul in sight. It stinks and I’m hot. I just past a man on a mat, he looked like bones, I wondered if he was dead. Finally, there’s a row of shops up ahead and they’re spilling over with tourists. I run, hail an auto, hop in and don’t care what price I have to pay to get home. I think back to the lone man on the sidewalk, he’s someone’s brother, son and friend. We stop in front of my sister’s place, I pay the driver, climb the staircase, open her door and realize how blessed I truly am.


Jen returns the following week and I’d never thought I’d be so happy to see her. Concerned that I’d spent the last two weeks locked up in her apartment, she’s relieved to hear my successful ‘survival’ report from Denny.





I manage to get a flight out that September. Denny loads my bags into the car and I thank him with a hug. His eyes well up, I get in, wave from the back window and then we disappear into the darkness.


We’re dropped off outside the airport, it’s noisy and chaotic. I grab my bags and Jen helps me carry them onto the sidewalk. We take one last look at each other then hug. Our eyes over flow with tears and we shout, ‘I love you.’ She wishes me a safe flight, sends me on my way and then disappears into the crowd of people around her.


I walk through security and head towards check in. I reluctantly hand over my ticket only to realize how much I’m going to miss this mysterious country. For amidst the land of billions, I learned the true meaning of gratitude. Gratitude for all that I have, and for the people in my life that I once took for granted.