It turned out the two who were sharing my room were also intending on heading to Dharamsala the next day, and so together jumped on a morning bus, into the mountains and away from the India I had come to know and love. Dharamshala is a haven for Tibetan refugees and it is they who populate they small town and mountains within the province of Himachal Pradesh. The bus slowly trundled through hills and gradually ascended into the himalayas. Pines replaced broadleaf, it reminded me of BC actually; the rolling hills, the lush foliage. The only difference was that it was populated with shops and small towns every step of the way. I remember wondering what a billion people might look like and now I understand: there are people simply everywhere.
When we arrived in Dharamshala it was night, we met a swiss girl and the four of us all took a cab to a town further north of Dharamshala called McLeod Gang. This was where the Dalai Lama lived, it stuck onto the mountainside, green everywhere. The following morning I awoke feeling awful. I had a bad cough, and a unsettled stomach. Unfortunately because of this I wasn't able to take part in the treks my colleagues had in mind, and instead went from sleeping in bed and small walks around town. I had been craving some quality noodle soup and a bowl of dumplings for ages, and I would finally get my wish. Not yet though, my stomach had other ideas.
I had heard of a Tibetan hospital and decided to head for it, my polish friend came along. It was tough going; the roads were steep and my asthma wasn't abating. What's more, when I finally arrived I realized it was a Saturday and therefore closed. I returned to town empty handed. Together with my Polish friend (I almost want to make up a name for him, I can't keep calling him that, how about Milazs?) we headed into a dumpling shop when I was heard a faint mumbling next to me. I looked down and saw an old man, his body bent, his hands gnarled and shaking. 'Could you stand me up?' was his request. Sure, I said. I grabbed his hands and pulled him up, then, at his request, stretched his hands above his head. He let out an audible sigh of relief. Afterwards, he asked him if I'd like to hear some things that might help me out. When an old gnarled mine, visibly wise beyond years, says things like that you sit down and listen.
He told me of sun-gazing, the art of staring at the sun right as it is rising, to gain power from it. He told me of ways to work around the world, and many other things. After speaking for around 30 minutes, he had a request. He was an old man suffering from Parkinson's disease, and he was traveling alone. Many of those who ran guesthouses knew of him and, afraid he would die in his sleep and the trouble that would cause them, would not allow him stay alone, or sometimes at all. Would I mind sharing a room with him? I said yes without much thought, I liked this old man and liked the chance to help him. He was visibly relieved. Who knows what he would've done had no one provided him help. His name was Amram Abraham, and he'd been traveling for 44 years straight. He was born in Brooklyn in the late 30's and took off to Israel when he was 18, he hadn't stopped moving since.
After a number of noodle soups and a massage I my stomach had returned to normal, but my lungs, unfortunately, had not. I coughed a lot, and was short of breath constantly. Nevertheless Amram and I wandered the streets of McLeod Gang, stopping for dumplings and coups of Ginger-Lemon-Honey tea. Amram mentioned that the next day there was an English Sunday service at an 200 year old church somewhere in the woods out of town. He thought it might be a good way to spend a morning and I thought, what the hell, why not? Amram was Jewish and I was ... a non-practicing Buddhist (sure why not) so the service might be interesting from an outsiders point of view, in addition with the whole context of the situation, with His Holiness living 20 minutes away.
That night I realized the extent of what I got myself into when I said yes to Amram. He would need my aid in very nearly everything he did. In retrospect I'm amazed he managed to get to Dharamshala on his own in the first place. I won't get to much into it here, I'll just say I got very little rest, and that after 5 days I knew acutely my calling was not to be a nurse.
That morning we were to take a rickshaw to the church. This proved more challenging because of drivers' reluctance to take Amram as a customer. It seemed the people of McLeod Gang wanted very little to do with this old man, the added trouble of his lack of mobility seemingly too much for them to deal with. We got one, and were taken to an old stone church in the middle of the forest. Inside there were stones that read 'This pew is dedicated to Capt. Rawley, who was killed by a bear in 1887' and stuff. Cool. The pastor was an aging Indian man in a baseball cap. There was a surprising amount of people here, so much so there wasn't enough psalm books to go around and I was unfortunately, left without. It was okay, I just kinda hummed 'Jesus Jesus Jesus God Jesus' along with the melody. I guess the pastor wasn't confident enough in his English and so Sean, a 21 year old Japanese-American from Oregon, did the talking. He spoke about how God is great and that we should always be asking what God wants from us. Sacrifice etc. Sorry, but after about 5 minutes I couldn't help but tune out, the church itself being far more interesting that was being said in it. Amram fell asleep beside me.
We painted quite the picture the two of us, wandering the streets of Dharamshala. In the morning I'd read him the newspaper, we'd sit in front of a dumpling shop and talk about our lives. He seemed to somehow have his ear on the ground about live music events, and at night we would go to Jam sessions and concerts. I'd bring my didgeridoo and I'd play with them for hours. Amram would sit and fall asleep to the music. We'd head home and be in bed by 11. Sounds kinda nice, doesn't it?
The truth was I was getting exhausted. In general and with Mr. Abraham. I was sick myself, and I literally got no time to be alone. I was his 24/7 nurse. I helped him do everything and it was starting to take its toll on me. I realized I didn't have the patience for it, I knew that if I continued any longer with Amram I would begin resenting him. Around the 3rd day I began wondering what the hell was this guy doing here? Alone? Why wasn't he in a rest home, or at least in some place where his needs were looked after by paid professionals? Why burden strangers in the middle of India? Why risk his own health to be here?
The truth was that it's all he knows. When he left home he had been given a traveling allowance from his parents and when they died, they left him more money. He had no need to work and instead traveled the Earth. He had led a blessed life. His dream was freedom, and he saw traveling as a way to practice that freedom. In a way I agree with him. But in another way I realized that maybe freedom isn't all it's cracked up to be. That freedom isn't everything and that life isn't about only attaining and living freedom. I couldn't help but think that wandering the Earth for 44 years a bit of an empty existence. A lonely one. One time we were sitting in a cafe, I had just finished reading an article about a politician who had just taken up a fast unto death protesting corruption in the government, when in a soft voice Amram said simply: 'I should have married her'.
He was 18 and choose travel instead of marrying his sweetheart. He still thinks about it now, 44 years later. After a life chasing the dragon named Freedom, he wished for commitment.
I got a hug from an Amma in Bangalore. I got a book from an Amma in small village in Tamil Nadu. When Amram Abraham signed his named in the hotel ledger of our hotel, he signed it AMA. What did I get from him?
Intestines still fine.
When we arrived in Dharamshala it was night, we met a swiss girl and the four of us all took a cab to a town further north of Dharamshala called McLeod Gang. This was where the Dalai Lama lived, it stuck onto the mountainside, green everywhere. The following morning I awoke feeling awful. I had a bad cough, and a unsettled stomach. Unfortunately because of this I wasn't able to take part in the treks my colleagues had in mind, and instead went from sleeping in bed and small walks around town. I had been craving some quality noodle soup and a bowl of dumplings for ages, and I would finally get my wish. Not yet though, my stomach had other ideas.
I had heard of a Tibetan hospital and decided to head for it, my polish friend came along. It was tough going; the roads were steep and my asthma wasn't abating. What's more, when I finally arrived I realized it was a Saturday and therefore closed. I returned to town empty handed. Together with my Polish friend (I almost want to make up a name for him, I can't keep calling him that, how about Milazs?) we headed into a dumpling shop when I was heard a faint mumbling next to me. I looked down and saw an old man, his body bent, his hands gnarled and shaking. 'Could you stand me up?' was his request. Sure, I said. I grabbed his hands and pulled him up, then, at his request, stretched his hands above his head. He let out an audible sigh of relief. Afterwards, he asked him if I'd like to hear some things that might help me out. When an old gnarled mine, visibly wise beyond years, says things like that you sit down and listen.
He told me of sun-gazing, the art of staring at the sun right as it is rising, to gain power from it. He told me of ways to work around the world, and many other things. After speaking for around 30 minutes, he had a request. He was an old man suffering from Parkinson's disease, and he was traveling alone. Many of those who ran guesthouses knew of him and, afraid he would die in his sleep and the trouble that would cause them, would not allow him stay alone, or sometimes at all. Would I mind sharing a room with him? I said yes without much thought, I liked this old man and liked the chance to help him. He was visibly relieved. Who knows what he would've done had no one provided him help. His name was Amram Abraham, and he'd been traveling for 44 years straight. He was born in Brooklyn in the late 30's and took off to Israel when he was 18, he hadn't stopped moving since.
After a number of noodle soups and a massage I my stomach had returned to normal, but my lungs, unfortunately, had not. I coughed a lot, and was short of breath constantly. Nevertheless Amram and I wandered the streets of McLeod Gang, stopping for dumplings and coups of Ginger-Lemon-Honey tea. Amram mentioned that the next day there was an English Sunday service at an 200 year old church somewhere in the woods out of town. He thought it might be a good way to spend a morning and I thought, what the hell, why not? Amram was Jewish and I was ... a non-practicing Buddhist (sure why not) so the service might be interesting from an outsiders point of view, in addition with the whole context of the situation, with His Holiness living 20 minutes away.
That night I realized the extent of what I got myself into when I said yes to Amram. He would need my aid in very nearly everything he did. In retrospect I'm amazed he managed to get to Dharamshala on his own in the first place. I won't get to much into it here, I'll just say I got very little rest, and that after 5 days I knew acutely my calling was not to be a nurse.
That morning we were to take a rickshaw to the church. This proved more challenging because of drivers' reluctance to take Amram as a customer. It seemed the people of McLeod Gang wanted very little to do with this old man, the added trouble of his lack of mobility seemingly too much for them to deal with. We got one, and were taken to an old stone church in the middle of the forest. Inside there were stones that read 'This pew is dedicated to Capt. Rawley, who was killed by a bear in 1887' and stuff. Cool. The pastor was an aging Indian man in a baseball cap. There was a surprising amount of people here, so much so there wasn't enough psalm books to go around and I was unfortunately, left without. It was okay, I just kinda hummed 'Jesus Jesus Jesus God Jesus' along with the melody. I guess the pastor wasn't confident enough in his English and so Sean, a 21 year old Japanese-American from Oregon, did the talking. He spoke about how God is great and that we should always be asking what God wants from us. Sacrifice etc. Sorry, but after about 5 minutes I couldn't help but tune out, the church itself being far more interesting that was being said in it. Amram fell asleep beside me.
We painted quite the picture the two of us, wandering the streets of Dharamshala. In the morning I'd read him the newspaper, we'd sit in front of a dumpling shop and talk about our lives. He seemed to somehow have his ear on the ground about live music events, and at night we would go to Jam sessions and concerts. I'd bring my didgeridoo and I'd play with them for hours. Amram would sit and fall asleep to the music. We'd head home and be in bed by 11. Sounds kinda nice, doesn't it?
The truth was I was getting exhausted. In general and with Mr. Abraham. I was sick myself, and I literally got no time to be alone. I was his 24/7 nurse. I helped him do everything and it was starting to take its toll on me. I realized I didn't have the patience for it, I knew that if I continued any longer with Amram I would begin resenting him. Around the 3rd day I began wondering what the hell was this guy doing here? Alone? Why wasn't he in a rest home, or at least in some place where his needs were looked after by paid professionals? Why burden strangers in the middle of India? Why risk his own health to be here?
The truth was that it's all he knows. When he left home he had been given a traveling allowance from his parents and when they died, they left him more money. He had no need to work and instead traveled the Earth. He had led a blessed life. His dream was freedom, and he saw traveling as a way to practice that freedom. In a way I agree with him. But in another way I realized that maybe freedom isn't all it's cracked up to be. That freedom isn't everything and that life isn't about only attaining and living freedom. I couldn't help but think that wandering the Earth for 44 years a bit of an empty existence. A lonely one. One time we were sitting in a cafe, I had just finished reading an article about a politician who had just taken up a fast unto death protesting corruption in the government, when in a soft voice Amram said simply: 'I should have married her'.
He was 18 and choose travel instead of marrying his sweetheart. He still thinks about it now, 44 years later. After a life chasing the dragon named Freedom, he wished for commitment.
I got a hug from an Amma in Bangalore. I got a book from an Amma in small village in Tamil Nadu. When Amram Abraham signed his named in the hotel ledger of our hotel, he signed it AMA. What did I get from him?
Intestines still fine.
