I haven't always wanted to go to India and I'm not even sure when I first thought that I did. I think the real desire probably started when I decided not to include it in my 2013 itinerary, both due to cost and that it is never somewhere I relished the idea of going to alone. As is so often the way, you don't really realise how much you want something until you can't have it!
In May I went to the Wellbeing show at London Olympia with a couple of friends. Veronica was particularly excited to visit The Ashok Tree Foundation stand, a project she has been involved in for some years now and who she would finally be going to visit in situ in July. Her enthusiasm, as always, was infectious, and when I said I wanted to come too, she simply replied "so come!" Fortunately she meant it, as it was only a matter of days until my flight and accommodation was booked. And that was it, I too was going to India.
I generally like middle eastern airlines and so, with a good price on offer, I chose Kuwait Airlines. A first for me. A rather tired A340, agonisingly late for my short layover earns them a re-christening to U-Wait Airlines. It seems the not-so-great reviews might have some foundation! By the time a very passable supper was finished and several pleasant exchanges enjoyed with the crew, along with the re-assurance that the connecting flight would wait for us, I found myself warming to them. The hasty change in Kuwait onto a new A330 whose service was efficient, certainly meant that overall I was far more impressed than I expected to be. The e-visa queue consisted of just me at Chennai airport and the wait for the luggage was remarkably short. Customs appears very understated, as though you have the choice of whether or not you wish to declare anything listed on the rudimentary signs dotted around the customs hall.
Veronica and the taxi driver are due to be waiting for me, her flight having arrived an hour earlier. It comes as rather a shock to walk out of customs straight into the heat of the outdoor arrivals area and throngs of faces, many jostling and calling out offers for taxi services. It is with some relief when I finally spot my name on a board. Just as well Plan B wasn't needed-meet at the airport information desk in the arrivals hall!
By 6.30am it is already getting hot and we have joined the alarming chaos that India calls driving. The horn is to be used to alert everyone to your presence, and more liberally if you are performing a manoeuvre which entails zig-zagging at speed between traffic, regardless of its size, taking up both lanes of the highway. Ostensibly one drives on the left, but beyond that that we can fathom no recognisable rules! Perhaps vehicles do actually have a retractable bonnet and why wouldn't cows be on the road too - it's certainly not for the faint-hearted! Here too then, walking should be undertaken at a most leisurely pace, but driving is all about getting there faster than you thought possible.
As we leave the city streets behind, smaller settlements are dotted all along the road, some are barely more than heaps of straw and coconut fronds. Despite this, the children on their way to school are improbably and yet incredibly well dressed. Many of the girls have adorned their long shiny plaits with flowers or trinkets. It appears that your financial circumstances should not be a reason for not looking your best.
The colours are iridescent and beautiful bright saris, flowers and jewellery complement the women's sun-darkened skin tones. The men tend to be more conservative with a plain shirt and sarong-like cloth tied cleverly to create a cool, airy lower half garment, for which I do not yet have a name.
Our destination is Tiruvannamalai, which being a bit of a tongue twister and sounding nothing like the local version, has already been shortened to Tiramisu, or just Tiru. The road is not a tourist route and signs of hardship would be difficult to miss. I think we get a fairly good overview of rural India as we head towards our home for the next sixteen nights.
