AN AMERICAN IN INDIA by P.S. Joshi

My life in India is different than some peoples.  As a visitor will tell you, “Visiting India is different than living there.”  How true!  My husband, an Indian citizen, owned a flat here and the idea was to move here upon retirement and live happily on our Social Security.  This would have been okay except that his brother had been living rent-free in the flat and wasn’t ready to move when we arrived.  

My husband didn’t plan well as he has a bi-polar condition which he won’t acknowledge, so thinks medication is not needed.  Looking back, I should have checked into the situation more thoroughly, but the glorified vision of me not having to work and just enjoying life clouded the possible reality. 

Actually, not planning well is an understatement.  He decided we should travel on a budget which ended up in us spending some time in Germany where out flight touched down, then reaching a train station in Italy at night with no hotel booking and where we were told to leave when the staff wanted to clean.  Fortunately, or as I prefer to think–by God’s good graces–a small man showed up to lead us to a nearby hotel.  He was an older gentleman and no doubt supplemented his income by doing just that.

 Next in Italy, we got off at the wrong station, had to walk to a local hotel, found a busload of people there ahead of us and faced the reality of having to sleep outside somewhere.  Once more we were rescued by a man who said he could drive us to another hotel.  It was a beautifully-tiled rustic place with great food.  The only problem was we didn’t have transportation and it was quite a distance from Rome.  Again we got a ride and ended up in Rome where it was raining and the parts of the Vatican visitors go to see were closed down because dignataries were visiting.  My husband became manic due to his unmedicated condition and started to use language which wasn’t at all fitting for that place.

We caught a train back to Germany and decided to scrap our plans to travel through France and England.  I had a bag of wet laundry I had washed in Italy and no place to dry it.  I decided enough was enough and we decided to scrap the rest of the trip through France and England and come straight to India. (Next blog–more about India and a poem on an Indian topic.)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s