Die Panserknacker Funf do India Grand Finale

Headings:
Nithin’s gone, a bus looses its wheel, and we check out hospitals because we’re forced to.
Yuh follow!?!
The bus from Goa up north to Ahmedabad, Gujarat left at around 6am. We strolled through the morning darkness in streets I’d never seen before. Heavy luggage wanted the bus to rock up anytime soon. Ten minutes later, while we were still strolling towards the bus stop, the bus just rocked up from behind a curve, opened its door and we were on our way. One dinner break, three tea breaks, and 24 hours later, we stepped onto the ground of Ahmedabad, which was victim to a huge riot not many years ago.

The story goes, according to Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2002_Gujarat_riots):

Gujarat Riots of 2002

The riots were triggered on February 27, 2002 by an attack on a passenger train, the Sabarmati Express, passing through the town of Godhra. It is alleged that the train was forcibly stopped at Signal Falia near Godhra Junction. Ladies Coach S6 bore the brunt of mob attack. In the midst of attack, Coach S6 caught fire killing 59 passangers, most of whom were women and children. The news of 59 deaths lead to a wave of riots. Others allege that the train was at the station when the Hindu extremist passengers started shouting anti-Muslim slogans.
Many train passengers were Hindu extremists and pilgrims called Kar Sevaks returning from a disputed religious site in Ayodhya and were emotionally charged. The train was allegedly set to fire by Muslim extremists. Hindu sympathisers often cite this as the primary provocation or the "first use" of violence. However, Muslim sympathisers allege that it was the Hindus extremists riding the train who were the first to provoke standers-by Muslims in Godhra railway station by shouting Hindu-religous slogans like "Jai Shri Ram" (Victory of Shri Ram).
Railway Minister Lalu Prasad Yadav appointed Justice Banerjee to investigate the cause of fire. On the eve of election in Railway Minister's Native State Bihar, Justice Banerjee submitted an interim report concluding that the fire and attack are two seperate events. Fire was likely started from within the train, and not by a mob gathered outside the train. This interim report was allegedly used in Bihar Election to attract Muslim votes. Interim Report's credibilty is questioned by some critics due to timing of its release and subsequent use in election campaigning.

According to an Indian Central Government report released in 2005, 254 Hindus and 790 Muslims were killed with an estimated 223 deemed missing. A train carrying Hindu pilgrims was burnt down in the town of Godhra and the Indian Government, without conducting an investigation, was quick to point the blame on Muslim fundamentalists. A few days later, under a state sponsored genocide program, supervised by Narendra Modi (Chief Minister of Gujarat), more than 2500 Muslims were brutally murdered by Hindu fundamentalists. Most of the victims were women who were dragged out of their homes, gang raped, then murdered. No period in history marks the kind of butchery that was displayed against women. Thousands of children became victims of terror and were left orphans. Until today, the murderers in the state of Gujarat remain free and the Indian government has done nothing to bring justice to the victims. The courts have delayed hearings or dismissed the cases based on no evidence. Of course, the evidence exists, but due to red tape and the prevalence of Modi and Co. the murderers were acquitted.

In Ahmedabad, most people – social workers, journalists, survivors – agree that what Gujarat witnessed was not a riot, but a terrorist attack followed by a systematic, planned massacre. Everyone spoke of the pillage and plunder, being organized like a military operation against an external armed enemy. An initial truck would arrive broadcasting inflammatory slogans, soon followed by more trucks which disgorged young men, mostly in khaki shorts and saffron sashes. They were armed with sophisticated explosive materials, country weapons, daggers and trishuls. They also carried water bottles, to sustain them in their exertions. The leaders were seen communicating on mobile telephones from the riot venues, receiving instructions from and reporting back to a coordinating centre. Some were seen with documents and computer sheets listing Muslim families and their properties. They had detailed precise knowledge about buildings and businesses held by members of the minority community, such as who were partners say in a restaurant business, or which Muslim homes had Hindu spouses were married who should be spared in the violence. This was not a spontaneous upsurge of mass anger. It was a carefully planned program.


Fact in hand is I had never heard of this genocide before, and it surprised me how I hadn’t read it or seen it anywhere, especially when my a few people in Gujarat told me that the amount of people murdered following the train fire was far larger than announced. I still have to double check that, and come back and edit it in. Anyhow! We went to a restaurant after arrival in Ahmadebad which is populated by 4.5 million people. The same as Norway. The province of Gujarat jas officially 50.6 millions and share a border with Pakistan. I hate numbers, but people numbers here and there interest me for some reason.
We were visiting a friend and guru of Nithin, Father Peter, who runs St. Xavier’s High School in Meghraj, as small village town approx 2 hours north of Ahmadebad. Father Peter was a real cool man. Nithin has been talking quite a bit about him for the last couple of years. Nithin worked ther for nearly three years before diciding to move south studying in Brisbane, which is how fate now brought all of us back. Father Peter has a beautiful house just across th street to the school. There are dorms neighbouring his house housing 160 school boys. Across the road there is a girls dorm run by a wonderful bunch of nuns. He let us stay in his house were also his colleagues Father Raj, and his brother Leo stayed as well.

Gujarat is a Gandhian state where alcohol is illeagal, so we were told a few cool stories about past night rides across the border to get some booze. Nithin once had to out run the snut/cops on his bike.

We had a good rest after the long trippy road. Actually, I should tell how we were met at the bus station in Ahmedabad. Nithin went to find out where the bus was, and we stayed put on the street near a marked to watch our heavy bags chillin’. Not a minute went before the music system, playing hindi lattis music, changed to playing “Alarma” by el Diablo, a very undiscreet techno trash tune from the mid/late ninties. People started to get closer. No one said or asked much, but just stood there and stared at us. Pretty freaky actually, but it was a drop in the sea of people awaiting us in the near future.

Meghraj is a very small place. One main street surrounded by houses and smaller businisses. The first day at Father Peter’s, Nithin brought us in a huge cool ass jeep far up the village hills. At first the road was narrow, then it disappeared. We were driving up and down hills pon hills for at least an hour bringing us to a single farm house. The people living there greeted us and we went on a tiny hike to a dam nearby. Nithin had helped building it last time he was there. A lot of cool work has been done all over the villages. Also a lot of dugs had been digged. All this, the dugs and the dams were there to keep all the monsoon waters from just run away. The water kept sink through the ground, and it ends up in the wells they’re constantly digging.We all had a go at the jeep which was a hella lattis ride.

White men and women in north rural indian villages are rare commodities. Wherever we went, we were sure to get followers. If we stopped at a stand, store, or what no more, thirty people would surround us and just stare, and I ain’t shittin’ wit none. It was at first uncomfortable, then interesting, then hard to understand, then cool, then irritating, then irritating as a maddacunt. Nithin had a panic attack one night freakin out because of the thickness of our drape of eyes. Once in a while a small boy or maybe an older man would come over and ask where I was from. They were all very nice, no messed up intentions, but completely oblivious to the weirdness of their staring and showed no empathy in the situation. The girls loved it, but us guys easily learned ourself the art of swift movement. Cool was it though when we rocked up at Modassa (the biggest “city”) around, to check out and shop for lingerie. Attenion was fun then, for a short while.

I read “The Little Prince” at Father Peter’s house one day and enjoyed, but not to the extent I had thought I would. Reading it again soon. Currently reading Henrik Ibsen (Peer Gynt is hilarious serious).

After a couple of days, our route rocked east to the province of Rajasthan, city of Udaipur. I knew, had seen, and read nothing of it in my whole short life, and it ended up having the coolest spot I’ve been to. We drove with Father Peter and his posse who had business there. Nithin, Christian, Lizs, Christina, and myself went of to check out guest houses in the Lal Ghat area which came highly recommended in our bible “Lonely Planet: India”. The river or lake, call it what you want runs through a city of marble and granite temples and castles. It was a medival roman norse fantasy world sitting on the roof of Lal Ghat Guest house. There is the “Floating Palace”, which is surounded by the lake this time of year and looks absolutely word stealin’.
We met a lot of cool people at the guest house. Brits (mainly londoners), a cool Israeli dude, germans, italians, frenchmen and americans. The main spot at the rooftop had a magnetic effect making it hard to leave when one first ad sat down, so a lot of glancing, chatting, and relaxing found place up there. The city streets were cool with a lot of cool stores. I got some tea, and a hella lots of coolies for ma peacock as well as for my own feathers. One day Christian and me got a Auto Rickshaw to vruum chugga chug us around the city, and got the driver to stop whenever we saw some cool shit yelling for a closer lookapon.

The month long journey through India was ticking towards its closing chapter telling us for sure that the Himalayas had to wait for our sophomore tour. And then, the drama started.
Nithin went to see Father Peter for breakfast the first morning in Udaipur. He didn’t return for our tour of the city we had planned at 11am. He didn’t return later that afternoon. I went to a local wine store, where I bought beer and whiskey from a man who had locked himself behind some bars in a deserted dark alley. I sat on the roof sippin for Nithin’s return, which never happened. Next day, the e-mail arrived. He had returned to Ahmedebad to hook up with a very dear friend. All was good and the four of us in Udaipur was happy he had went to do what he needed to. But the Panserknacker Funf was now four. Tina and myself were heading out west to the desert the following day, but Lis got sick, reall sick. I stayed, Tina went. We were now three. Lis got a shot and too many pills for anyones good at the hospital, but they undoubtedly did the works. She was all well the next day and we went trackin’ for Tina, heading to the desert fort city of Jaisalmer. 6 hrs bus, got to Christian, and so did the kisses he had given Lis the night before. His condition looked worse than with her before. 6hrs train, a lot of shittin’ and vomiting later, we were met at the station by a dude saying he knew Tina. He drove us straight to the hospital. Know, the hospital in Udaipur hadn’t been what we were used to. Things like dirty sheets are freaky shit to overly hygenic westerners like ourselfs. The Jaisalmer Hospital was a cool place. We hit the front entrance at around 5.30am. People were working outside making it look like it was stil under construction. It was told to be renovating. We woke up the nurse which basically told us to piss off and rather wake up the doctor. He came and wrote his note of medicine. I walked with our driver through dark paths, crossing small hills of dirt and sement, and makeshift bridges of wooden planks to get to the “pharmacy”, which had an odd familiarity to the wine store I had visited in Udaipur. We woke up a dude sleeping on the floor behind the bars of steel. He danced around picking shelves of goodies. I got four treys of pills, a couple of bottles, and two syrringes. While waiting for the medicine, our driver told me about his flings with different girls who had stayed at the guest house he worked for. Funny chap. We rushed back to Christian who was exhausted from hours of pain. The doctor came and gave Christian his shots, two in each buttock (lovely word ain’t it). Funny as hell when Christian realised where he was gonna get hit! “Oae! No! Is it gonna hurt? Arrgh!!”

Reached the fort just before sunrise. Lis and Christian went straight to sleep after the long night. I hadn’t shared the drama with them as my seat on the train was on another wagon. I went straight to the roof and lost my breath. I viewd Bethlehem from a lost time. I Jesus had been alive, this was where I assume he would settle down. The fort, 800yrs old, built by Akbar The Great (we’re related maybe) of stones and bricks put on top of eachother, supported by no sement, no nada chinchillada.

Tina woke up and came and watched the sunrise with me and our driver who sold me a mouth harp (is that what it is called?)

The streets of the Jaisalmer Fort is populated by 3000 natives, a hella lots of pigeons and holy cows, but the place is owned by the flies, and they ain’t steppin’ for no one.
Many cool stores and people around. Not so much yelling and screaming after you to promise to buy something. The India’s businisses I’ve visited, seemingly has a mooto going “BUY BUY BUY NOW! YOU PROMISED!” Jaisalmer’s motto is more like “Hey, ya want some tea? You know looking is free” It was relaxing strolling around talking to people with no alteria motive (selling shit). Restaurants were good, and they view got more mesmerizing as the world turned. Each our gave the fort and the city around (also packed with temples, houses, and other forts all constructed the same way) a new colour.

We got a hold of Nithin and he’ll be in Bombay tomorrow. So will Christian and myself. We’re tired of chuggin the vast India on wheels, and decided to catch a plane from Jodhpur to Bombay. The girls will follow the rails. By the way, the bus I didn’t take with Tina, to stay put with Christian an ill Lis, lost one of its wheels and spinned like a nutter on crack giving Tina a good bump to the head, but all is well. Nithin also had an accident crashing his bike from Ahmedebad to Meghraj. Sorry brother had to stitch his leg back together. He already got a map of scars on his legs from the olden days, so I’m looking forward to checkin’ out the new pattern.
I’m sitting in Jodhpur right now. My plane leaves at 2pm later today. It is 0905am at the time. I’m going to Dubai in two days, staying there for one day before a long awaited reunion in Brisbane. 306 kisses coming. 306 kisses to be received… LATTERKICK!
Waddayaknow! Trips over.

Thank you trip, Thank you Nithin, Christian, Lis and Tina.

Thank you India… Till next time… I cheer my feni…

Anders.