Those Eyes....

A few days ago Tami and I bused it for ten hours from Patan in Gujarat to Jodhpur in Rajasthan. Sometimes, especially when you venture off routes not frequented by western travelers, you become a spectacle. You see it most at extremes. In Mumbai, we hardly drew a second glance. Mumbaikers (as the city's denizens are called) have seen it all, like people in any other world capital. It didn't take long after we left to feel the change, though. It's a safe equation that you can ratchet up your chance of drawing attention with every few kilometers you go into the folksy hinterland.

I think I've mentioned before that privacy is tough to find in India. Now, after three trips and more than a cumulative year in the country I see one of the things about traveling here that is most exhausting. If you've never been subjected to it for a prolonged period of time (and prior to traveling here, I hadn't), you don't understand that constantly being stared at is a form of psychological torture. It can make you CRAZY.

There's no doubt I'm more aware of it more because I'm traveling with Tami. She, draws far more stares than I do...but I see most of those and try to run interference when I can. Even on my own, though, I guess I look different enough to be the news of the day when nothing else is doing.

The guy at the photo above sat across the aisle from us on the bus ride I spoke of. He got on in some small town and COULD NOT STOP LOOKING. He gazed with such an absence of reserve that I am convinced he did not believe I was another human. For a long time I hid behind my sunglasses and tried to ignore him. I have no idea what he found so interesting but he sat with his head craned around for a solid two hours. Once in a while I'd look directly back at him and he would not flinch - not a thing in his expression changed. It was unnerving.

If I made a note in my journal, his eyes followed my hands like they were going to burst into a shower of gold flakes. If I reached into my bag for gum, he watched every move - from pack to mouth. I took the photo above by taking my camera out of my bag while it was down between my legs. I never looked at him - just pointed the camera at him because I knew he was staring and fired.

Finally, I started writing about it in my journal. This....I can only guess...what too much for him. He actually offered his seat to a man standing next to me and stood in his place looking directly down on what I was doing. I lasted about two sentences and folded up shop. No one else on the bus (except Tami, who'd gone completely incommunicado behind her shades and I-Pod) showed any sign that they thought it was weird. And why should they, many folks here stare. They don't care that some stranger stares at a foreigner.

Thank heavens he got off at some other small town. He left without a word but kept glancing back right until he stepped off the bus.

Bye, bye...