I saw Claire and her friend Sadie off at around 10.00 am and then I was on my own again. I was flying onwards in less than 24 hours and there was stuff to do. I had to put together and post the latest parcel home. There's a note that says "tailoring" so I suppose I was having something made that went into the parcel. I then had to pack my rucksack ready for the trip the next day.
I really don't know what happened to the day. It drifted away, it was dissipated. It was probably a very good thing that I had a ticket out India the next day. Not only the day but the writer was dissipated.
India is dangerous place. I have doubtless already said that some travelers do not get through in one piece. There is a severe risk of permanent damage to a person's mental and intestinal health. On reflection another risk is sheer dissipation. By the end of the first leg of my journey when I arrived back in Istanbul I had been through a complete detox (except for the cigarettes, of course). I'd had barely a liter of beer in six weeks and no stronger stimulant than çay or coffee. I was fit and ready for anything.
That was probably just as well because by the time I arrived back in Delhi after two months I was a shadow of my former self. I had probably not had too much alcohol along teh way but I had certainly indulged in some prodigious pot-smoking and latterly had been lost in the pursuit of other sensual pleasures. Furthermore, the bout of illness in Pushkar and its aftershock after Agra on the train to Mumbhai had taken its toll. I did try to eat plenty of what was healthy and was never ill in India again but by the end of it all I had lost a fair amount of weight.
Life was full of hassles and dangers in India but it was generally exciting and stimulating. Every day was an adventure. Even this day which was dissipated by carrying out a series of fairly ordinary tasks was filled with all the peculiarities that both endear and infuriate.
I'd waved Claire off. I was on my own again tidying up the loose ends and getting ready to leave. It felt weird. There was an emptiness. It would have been easy to just stay except for the fact that it would have messed up my whole itinerary.
My notes conclude with the words "v. late talking". I imagine this means talking with the Aussies I'd met the night before with whom I dare say I tried to smoke whatever I had left of the stash accumulated along the way and to whom the balance was doubtless bequeathed.
