you see, being in India i had the privilege of seeing the world through tourist's eyes. not belonging to a place and having no (or very limited) responsibilities, and being somewhere quite alien puts a sense of wonder and the exotic on everything.
everything is interesting and strange and beautiful. i recall the daily 'parades' of Eluru and realize that i probably did not represent them to you entirely accurately, as even while they stared at us walking by, i also stared - not in the same way, but at the beauty and wonder of this strange new world and its people.
it's sort of like reading the beginning chapters of One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (hence the title) - where the ordinariness of life is so magical and surreal that you are filled with continuous wonder - (before the world he paints descends into chaos and ruin).
i would catch myself thinking all the time, i wonder if anyone else realizes how beautiful this moment and everything is. just the way the sunlight falls, the way the ground feels beneath your feet, the buildings greyed with dirt and pollution, the walls covered with moss and creepers, birds calling, traffic blaring continuously, children laughing, and people everywhere, busy, going about the stuff of life.
i know that now i have returned i will soon get caught up in the stuff of life myself, and lose the wonder and appreciation of life and its beauty that i gained while being here.
it's strange how we learn to be in a way that isn't being at all.
eyes that don't see, ears that don't hear.
and i know that soon i will start to take for granted the people that for months i longed to see. we will argue and fight and become bored and exhausted and stressed and disconnect, and want to be away from it all, all the while blinded to the wonder and beauty and love.
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