As I write this, I am in a taxi, on the way to Delhi airport. I have slept for half the journey, so it is not as painful as I had expected.
The work I have been dreading is designed and the dye is cast. Two collections of clothes designed in two months. I have to confess that it has been extremely stressful. More so before I arrived for this second trip than since being here, although there have been some huge moments here. But now I feel tired and more than a little apprehensive of the future. I think that is why I slept, to stop the voices in my head asking me if I really was totally crazy, or what? But the path feels inexorable. Is that just my excuse of the reality of my experience? Will I ruin us all or is this going to be the making of us? What is the famous adage? DonÄôt quit before the miracle.
As well as doing the clothes, I have made some SadhusÄô necklaces. Sadhus are wandering Holy men and they always seem to have rather mystical necklaces that I covert in a deeply unspiritual way. I have, on several occasions, photographed these beauties and now have committed myself to several different ones. I finally found a jeweller that is interesting to work with. He has been quite surprising during this visit. Not only because he loves beautiful women and confesses to being a jeweller mainly because of that love, but also because he has a good eye and makes pieces quite different to the usual wares.
I did rather go into hiding on this trip, I must confess. I barely called anyone I knew here. Apart from a couple of people I kept totally to myself. I even hid from two stores. Hid does not aptly describe it, but I made sure I was not seen. I hate being regaled with dinner invitations to one family house in particular. I have only been there once and on that occasion we went to sit at the kitchen table to eat and a large, I kid you not; rat slowly meandered off the table and hid being a picture. I know we are never more than 3 feet from these delights, but a rat twitching itÄôs tail behind a picture during the meal, with me knowing that itÄôs wee has just been wiped off the table with a dirty cloth, my plate then wiped with the same clothÄ¶Ä¶. House cooking.
Gosh, I am not being so kind today. I suppose it is an overdose of hooting, shouting, dirt, stress and meals alone.
I was spoilt yesterday by being taken out to dinner by two Kashmiri gentlemen. We sat in the perfumed gardens of the Rambhag Palace and ate really good pasta. It was a treat. I am sure I talked far too esoterically, but the joy of company overtook me! Anyway they were delightful and happen to sell the most delicious cashmere shawls. One can never have too many shawls. Something I discovered years agoÄ¶.
Delhi airport is never one of my favourite places. I am not sure if it is the airport that is totally to blame or the state that I am in when I get there each time. Heathrow is always a place of expectation and excitement mingled with the stress of being crammed into a tube and being helpless for x number of hours until the tube is opened and we all spill out to resume our lives again. But Delhi, it is all over, the adventure has been had, normalcy of experience is looming and the long wait, which include the stuffed tube experience, is a bit of a let down.
I do so look forward to seeing the children. Gosh I missed them. Partly because we had all been there together and it was so different without them.