Tuesday, July 10, 2007

100 to Delhi

100 to Delhi. It's self explaining: it means 100 kilometers to reach Delhi. This simple text message has kick started my imagination just a couple of days ago. For sure that's enough to start dreaming. The word Delhi itself is enough to ignite wonderful fantasies. India. Magic India. A world apart. Made with contrast. Full of glam and rich in culture. Cradle of the civilization and probably, according to someone, the place where everything has started. The number zero. The chess game. Just to tell some.

100 to Delhi. I think it's probably one of the most exciting message I have ever received. A friend sent it to me exactly 100 km "only" from Delhi. The truth is that this trip is almost a never ending one in India. Together with a previous text message this one sounds even more ridiculous: "...I'm on a taxi 280 km from Delhi. In 10 hours my plane leaves. Not so sure I'll get it". To analyze to simple phrases, filtered with out everyday experience, could make us smile. Probably we just cannot understand. Such a distance in the "civilized" part of the world can be done in a couple of hours. In India the only certain thing is that nothing is certain! Even 10 hours couldn't be enough to cover such a distance.

100 to Delhi. Any time I read it I think about this friend of mine. The overloaded backpack. The dust. The bloody heat. The sweat. The screams driven by the tension. An Indian cab-driver smiling for my friend's fear. He simply doesn't understand him. He sweetly smiles while moving the big head showing his few teeth and the white big eyes. The joy in the deep of the heart of the western guy. After all in just few hours everything will be so sad. Because he will miss the plane that should takes him home. Or maybe because he will get it. Leaving besides him all the magic of this land and its people.

100 to Delhi. 100.000.000 between East and West.

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