DeBanked, DeRailed, DeFeated

ME: I hear you are a mastermind at reading palms? What do mine say?

SHARMA: Ah yes, give me right hand. Hmmm, you be very like to talk

much yes? Social very good with family and friends and work yes? When

you have opinion yours-you talk it...you no hold back yes?

ME: Yes, that is true.

SHARMA: Lets me thinks...you are excellent planner - 100% with plan

but execution is poor yes? 60-70% execution...maybe 75%...at most

80%...just horrible! If you plan everyday and only do 80% how much you

lose only 1 day?

ME: 20%

SHARMA: 1 week only?

ME: Hmmm, 140%

SHARMA: Each one month only over 500%!!! TOO MUCH! Please, Please...do it everything you plan. And you follow your heart yes? You analytical in thinking mind, but you follow your heart yes?

ME: No, that’s wrong...I usually follow my mind.

SHARMA: OK, Please, just follow your heart. And me let see...you have white spots on your fingernails...you need calcium. And you are not very trusting yes? Why you not trust all the people? Trust is here a problem.

ME: Yeah, I need to eat more yogurt and cheese. But I am very trusting! Especially with people I hardly know.

SHARMA: Healthy here is good, very good. 70 maybe 75 years you die.

ME: (Silence. I feel my face turn white...Life long goal of reaching 100 years old...shattered on a Friday morning.)

SHARMA: And work is successful very much very much. After 24 it gets better much better and much more better. 27-30 change, 30-39 change and most better after 51. And yes multi-nationalistic work is good and better work for you. And I see apprehensive love with lover boys yes?

I show you many times with good men and good men but you say not now and no way. The time will be you to decide. 26 years...good man, 28 years...good man...31-33 years...good man. You decide...up to your choice. And babies! Don't you worrisome! That is problem no way. The soil is rich and alright...now just need plantation in the agricultural section!

My destiny unfolded while I sat in a chair in an ancient fort in the middle of the Indian desert. There were things he knew and stuff he clearly made up. But what he did not reveal were the happenings that befell me the following Monday....

Bag packed and yoga mat in hand, I boarded my train to Rishikesh, self-proclaimed as the yoga capital of the world. I was finally on my way to what would be a week of enlightenment and intense Astanga yoga amongst the backdrop of the staggering Himalayas. I took notice to the many Westerners lingering close by, their own personal grime in tote, and knew I was on the right track being that Rishikish is a popular tourist destination. Hoards of people quickly fill the car to find their seats and stow their baggage, pushing and pulling and groping just to slide by. Indian families travel seven or eight deep (in both children and luggage parcels). There were so many people that I struggled with the dexterity to get my bag off my back. To accelerate the process, I set my hand-bag down on my seat directly in front of me, lifted the pack to the rack and glanced back to my chair. In a matter of seconds, an abduction had occurred. The hand-bag was gone.

The bag that hadn’t once deviated from my line of vision so far, had disintegrated. It contained the following:

1) 1 US passport (a horrible picture yes, but vital for survival)

2) Over $240...a global stack of currency including dollars, rupees and shillings + 1 Mastercard

3) 1 Nokia cell phone containing all valuable phone numbers

4) 1 Cannon camera and flash-drive housing ALL my photo documentation of my travels

5) Eye glasses, my good/getting better book, my really good chap-stick....more and more.

Shocked and starting to shake I looked both directions but in the thick of the crowd I couldn't pin the culprit. I pushed to the left and than to the right...no dice. A split decision was made. I couldn’t get stuck in the foothills of the Himalayas with no passport, no money, no friends. I grabbed my backpack and de-boarded as the tears started to well in my eyes. I sighted a guard, meandering through the sea of people, his hand resting ever so calmly on his AK-47. I begin explaining what had happened as we stare at the kaboos and we watch the train slowly begin to roll away, my belongings as an unwanted passenger.

The welled tears were changing to salty streams. A crowd began congregating and I couldn’t help but think why, in a land that claims to be so holy, would something like this happen to such an angel? I was helpless indeed.

From the sea of observers, a random man was selected by the guard to show me the way to the police office. Fifteen minutes later, I find myself inside a windowless room with a smelling of strong sautéed onions. I was instructed to fill out my name and US address (so they could later send it to me if found?) on a blank piece of paper. Language barriers had never been more frustrating than in these 20 minutes. The stoic guard across from me didn’t even bat an eye. He saw this business everyday - naïve young travelers trying their luck with the desparate dispsition of New Delhi - and I could tell he didn’t feel bad. I knew that it was gone. I needed to come to grips with the reality.

But, it wasn't that I had lost my beloved physical possessions, my passport, all my money, my pictures of the world...my potential glossy lips. It was that my spirit had been crushed. My feelings ripped from my heart (the one I apparently follow) and blended into a curry sauce to be sprinkled in a urine scented train station. I was furious. Enraged that India hangs on the thinnest thread of survival. That thievery and begging and desperation is a mindset and lifestyle inbred and vibrant at every single moment. That this crooked system is corrupt and inhumane, relentless and unkind.

This story has so many complex intricacies but in short, by the grace

of Krishna, or Ganesh, Shiva or Ram...whoever, my bag was later

FOUND!!!...on the train, in the bathroom with everything in

it...passport, phone, mastercard, flashdrive....GLOSSY LIPS! (Of

course minus money and camera). Sada Sat, a saving grace, spent close

to SIX hours hindi-talking his way into tracking it. The bag was sent

back to Delhi the following morning, where we were reunited amongst a

$50 bribe and Chai.

But, the stolen bag saga doesn't end here with a happy reunion.

Because if it did, life would be normal. So please, keep reading.

Happy to see my glasses (quite literally) I immediately put them on my

face...and totally shocked that my passport and mastercard weren't

taken to be sold on the black market, I put them as close to my body

as possible. Praise allah because not even 30 minutes later...while

using the bathroom in McDonald's, the bag is stolen once AGAIN from

Bhani and Sadhs car...with their much trusted driver watcher over it.

(we are dealing with professionals here!!!!) A mystery? Yes. A

shocker? Considering my luck, not really. Words could not even exit my

mouth, I was so beside myself.

(This is where the Defeat comes into play). I am seeing the

signs...they are blatant and sooooo obvious, that I have clearly

overextended my vacation. Can you really call it a vacation anymore?

When the fun, relaxing, laziness of worldly travel turns into rage,

fear and emptiness? ("I know you can be overwhelmed, and at times I

feel underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?") That bag was

serious bad juju and for some reason is not meant to be in my

possession. But like Dengue Fever has taught me, everything happens

for a reason. And like Sharma read from my very own palm, I need to

listen to my heart. My heart, my mind, my bank account...they are all

telling me that this needs to end. Home SEEMS to be where I NEED to

be....barred inside with no belongings and no mosquitoes.

India has tickled every edge of my comfort zone. And although I didn't

take one single yoga class, or get to see the Taj ;( , a lesson has

been learned. Travel has taught me that patience is not only a virtue

(and a group of sick people), but that it is the sole travelers true

yoga practice. The ultimate testament of mind over matter and complete

detachment of anything physical. The art of complete submissiveness.

Breathing deeply even when you feel so stiffled and hot and irritable

and frustated, it hurts.

I write this email now from Arusha...ending my India exploration short

by 12 days and figuring out the details to head home (quickly) before

4 successful robbery attempts turn into 5. (Ethiopian Airlines lost my

bag in transit in Addis Ababa...typical...so it may take some time)

With all in hindsight, I am happy and healthy and although Tanzania is

in full bloom with it's tropical green hues welcoming me back and

pleading for me to stay, reallity is calling me back. And with my

heart, my gut...my analytical mind...I am answering.

Wear a money belt...

Love Jamie