Kolkata / Mayapur
Luggage took forever to secure from the carousel. Some of these planes are too big and passengers carry endless items. It was not easy to acquire wheelchair help once reaching the airport in India. I gave up on the idea.
While in the queue to re-check my luggage for a domestic flight to Kolkata, two families just jumped in front of me. I was already running late. I gave the intruders my temper. I let them know, “I love India. I love her people, but it’s this butting in that gives it a bad name. Learn some manners.”
My offenders backed off.
Then I came to security. I stood by the line ready for authorities to search me through the security checking arch. Again, someone walked right in front, not recognizing I was next in line. Well, I let him have it. I am usually soft, but I became loud. All security looked our way. “Who do you think you are? Bhagavan?” I addressed the one who barged ahead. “Stop this nonsense!” I told him.
I met up with Pariksit, who’s in his early 20’s and one of my actors for our performance of the drama “Mr. Puri.” The drive with him by cab to Mayapur was pleasant. I calmed down.
Finally I was able to get quality—but slow—walking in on the grounds of Mayapur. After two weeks of zero walking I feel somewhat liberated. The pace is slow but it’s sure, and it’s barefoot.
Frankly, it’s glorious to be in sacred space. It takes your mind off of pain. I’m already on my annual mission of activism, trying to discourage the use of motor-bikes. “This machine is bad for you and the environment” is what I said to three cyclists.
I felt good.
May the Source be with you!