Why hitch-hike? #1

Hitching rides from Jaipur to Delhi - India

Sorry for the two week long hiatus. I am now back to the world of internet. I was sitting quietly in a cell meditating. It felt like a relief, especially after the book promotions and yet, the first thing that I did after getting off of Vipassana was going on a 250 km hitch-hike from Jaipur to Delhi. It was quite an experience and something I wanted to share with you all, so here it is.

We had just concluded our 10 day Vipassana meditation - 10 days of no phone, no internet, no talking - not even having eye contact with anyone. After the final gong bell had rung and the Assistant teacher had concluded that we are now free to do whatever we want - no more rules, no more restrictions - everyone was elated. I walked out and sat on the park bench, watching everyone run around the place to get their hands on their phones. This was my second time doing Vipassana, so I knew how this craving worked. I had made it clear to myself, long before starting, that I would not ask for my phone until it was handed over. The nature of this addiction was playing out in front of my eyes. The ones working in the IT sector - the software engineers, the website designers - were restless to get their phone, their laptops back. Everyone else wanted to get in touch with their family - talk to their wife, to their kids, to their parents. Although this excitement only lasted only for a few moments - the minute they were exposed to their phones and their loved ones, all the old habits came rushing back. I could see how their facial expressions were changing - how they went from a place of no cravings or aversions, to wanting more and more of it. Hence, sitting on that park bench, I was concerned about how I get to enter this outside world, my tiny personal tech bubble.

Voice notes were a better way to express myself than calling, I thought. It conveyed exactly how I felt, without losing my ideas or getting any new ones. Cedric, my Filipino friend who had decided to come to this Vipassana centre alongside me, came and sat next to me. A thought appeared at that moment and I asked him right away, “Ced, can we hitch-hike to Delhi?”

I know, this was quite a radical thought - out of the blue. We had decided to travel together till Delhi, from where Cedric would catch a flight for Malaysia and I would travel up north to the Himalayas. I remembered the last time I had hitch-hiked - that was almost two years back with a friend in Wales, from Swansea to Mt. Snowdon. We stood on the sides of the road, our thumbs extended, hoping that someone would be kind to us. It was the covid-era. The law was against us, but the people weren’t. We had found extreme kindness from the Welsh truckers, plumbers, teachers and accountants. After crossing half of Wales on the first day, we slept in a sheep farm, waking up to their bleating. We wrapped our tent and ran to the nearest Aldi store so that none of the farm owners would find out about their uncalled guests. These memories were still fresh in my mind. Cedric too in an instant went, “Yes. Why not?” That enthusiasm was enough to push me to plan out the route.

Benin, another German guy who had joined us at the Vipassana centre, was travelling solo and had further plans of travelling Jodhpur and later north India. He too got excited after hearing our plan. “Go with the flow”, he said and asked if he could join us. Thus, it was the three of us, trying to perform the lost art of hitching rides.

What is it about hitch-hiking that is appealing?

Now, one might say, isn’t it easier to take a bus, a train or even better, a flight? Why put your body on line, that too in extreme heat? Why sit uncomfortably in trucks and mini pickups? The answer I have is, it is much better to put yourself in these situations and find the kindness of common people, which you hardly get to see in any other modes of transportation. People are willing to share their life to a complete stranger - which they don’t even do to their friends.

Hitch-hiking has always appealed me, right from the very first time when I saw it in a movie called “Into the Wild”. I have always wanted to be this wandering hippie. The 60’s, although having left many people with differing perspectives, have always been appealing to me. I was a fan of the “Magic Bus” that went all the way from Amsterdam to Nepal. I wish I was old enough to actually have lived through those times and ended up on one of those buses. Another film that had a deep impact on me was ‘Motorcycle Diaries’ which shows Che Guevara’s adventures before he became the revolutionary that we know today. What would his life have looked like if he were to take a bus all the way from Argentina to Bolivia? He would have never met those natives, he would never have understood and felt their pain, he would have never learnt about the unfair distribution of capital. This all happened because he and his friend were open to wandering off into the unknown with unknown people. That’s what hitch-hiking offers - it offers a free visa to the the world and to people’s hearts.

No one is a stranger

I remember going through this in England where there was a lot of emphasis on the individual and that, for some reason, made it difficult to just go with the flow. The wanting of private space and private identity made it difficult for a free wanderer like me to explore the place fully. Even the laws did not allow me to stand by the road side. I don’t know much about the UK laws. (Maybe someone can explain it in the comments) I was a stranger to many people and yet from my travels so far, I can tell one thing quite clearly, that no one is a stranger. Be it black, brown, white or any other colour, creed, religion, class that one is coming from, while hitching a ride, everyone is a friend.

There is something about hitch-hiking that brings people together. We are going in the same direction, we need company and this is how you get it. You end up making new friends - some even stay for life. Its not really about a free ride, its about having enough courage to overcome your fears. The fear that maybe this next person would be out there to harm me, or the fear that there will be some bad incident awaiting me. Once you show enough courage, the universe shows you the way. It never keeps a thirsty person away from the source of water - that’s just nature’s law. It actually rewards you in unbelievable ways; sometimes with food, sometimes with a cup of tea, sometimes with a new friend, who knows what awaits us.

The first hour

The most difficult part though is the first hour. That is when all the random ideas are running around your head. You are looking around and you see hundreds of faces looking at you - some even judging you. You wait by the side of the road and wonder if this is right place to be in. Maybe further down the road people might stop. Do they even see me? Should I wave furiously at each passing vehicle? Why doesn’t anyone stop? Am I stupid to do this? This and many many more things are running through ones mind.

We had a similar thought process. I was wondering if my plan would actually work or would it end up in a massive failure, but anyhow we all were equally excited at the site of standing on the roadside, our bags in the front, our hand stretched out, waiting for that one person to pick us up. After a short tuk-tuk ride from the Vipassana centre, which dropped us at the outskirts of the Jaipur city, we were left stranded next to a huge dumping station. Smelling all kinds of decomposing waste and chemicals, we were adamant that we would finding a ride right away. Of course, we were wrong. No one stopped for almost half an hour, when finally I asked, “Should we just walk a bit further? Maybe away from the smell?”

After walking a bit further and getting rejections from hundreds of passing vehicles, we finally arrived at an intersection. An empty tractor was coming our way. It was not the best mode of transportation, but what other options did we have anyway? The driver seemed to be in a good mood. He signalled us to get into the back of the tractor. Thus we got our first ride, some 25 km to the main highway. Our hair (not Benin, he shaves his head) were waving with the wind. Excited, we shared a smile, almost acknowledging the craziness that awaited us ahead. The city wall built by the royals, to keep the enemy away, was running through the reserved mountainous areas alongside us. Many expensive hotels built to house the rich tourists coming to visit the leopard reserve stood on the right side. While we saw the Mercedes’ and BMW’s exiting their parking spaces, trying to escape the potholes on the road, we were bumping to and fro in our ‘posh’ tractor - our driver definitely paid no heed to the potholes.

Dancing on the streets

Let’s be honest, in this new world that we have inhabited, the scariest thing to witness is someone being totally free. Freedom is looked down upon. People smiling, cheering and dancing are a grave danger to this modern society. It only functions on grief and a constant feeling of misery. It’s almost as if we have to have a bland face all along to show that we too are carrying our suffering on our back. When you realise that you are turning into this person, the only right thing to do is to run as far as you can from this feeling. Do anything and everything to be in that uncomfortable position. Do everything in your power to keep dancing and smiling. Make sure that no one takes that freedom away from you.

We jumped out of the tractor, put our bags on a nearby bench and looked around the place. A chicken center had put up many tiny chickens in the back of a pickup. We went from one smell of decomposing waste to another of dying chickens. By that time the clouds were out and we found ourselves in the middle of an extremely sunny day.

“Should we play some songs?” Benin asked.

“Sure. Why not!”, we said in a unison.

Under a bodhi tree, we listened to psychedelic trance, Lou Reed, Dire Straits all in a go. Many cars, with men having their suits hung near the window, passed us and went towards the industrial complex. As one part of the society went about their daily chores, this other part (us) was creating a separate reality for ourselves. It was almost as if we were living in a tiny bubble of ourselves - not governed by the society, not governed by the law or even by our fear. We were dancing and grooving to the tunes. Some villagers laughed at us and others thought we were crazy.

The contrast was striking, some other people who were waiting for a bus or a car to take them to their work place had a dull face. It looked like they hated doing this but were left with no other choice. On the other hand, the three of us, all aged 27, lost and confused by the societal standards and yet we were the only ones enjoying life.

After 45 minutes a red car stopped by. A government contractor was going to the next big town, some 30 km ahead. We hopped in and got some nice chilled air blowing in our faces. In a few minutes Benin and I were drooling in the back seat while Cedric chatted away with the driver.

Every hitch-hiker goes through a few phases

Every journey starts with excitement, then comes a point when you are confused, then you are simply tired and then something crazy happens which reinstates your belief in hitch-hiking.

After the second ride, we all were exhausted. We were waiting, sweating on the side of the road where there were no trees to give us some shade. A corn seller had put a makeshift shop on the edge of the road where a couple bikes and cars stopped every 5-10 minutes. In that scorching heat, even my tender Indian brown skin needed a layer of sunscreen. Cedric did the honours of sharing his sunscreen with everyone. I suddenly realised what the English and Aussie cricketers must be feeling like when they played in that humid, hotpot of a stadium in Mumbai. No, I actually felt more English than Indian in that time.

The heat and constant rejections are a bad combination. They throw you off of your high-horse and you feel like shit. Maybe we should have taken a bus. Maybe this isn’t the right time of the day to do this. Confusion rules your mind and every positive thought vanishes. But, this is the time when Vipassana helps. You try to see the impermanent nature of things and bring your mind back to the moment - keeping hopes alive. A smile returns to your face. The sweat and heat subside and that’s a sign from the universe that something is about to happen.

Soon enough, a car stopped by. Krishnakumar, a businessman from Jaipur was travelling to his hometown. After entering his car, the first thing he mentioned was, “I usually don’t pick people but you guys seemed decent and well educated, so I thought, why not?”

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Alright. I think the post is getting too long and yet I feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface. So, what I will do instead is divide the post in two parts. I’ll post the part two in a few days. There’s more, we met such amazing people towards the end! Stay tuned.

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If you have reached this far then I hope it means you like what I’m doing and if so you might consider supporting me by ‘buying me a coffee’ ( Substack does not let me monetize my articles because I am based in India) which is a one off payment rather than a continuous subscription. Payments, however small, encourage me in my writing and mean that I can spend more time honing my skills.

You can buy my book about my 1800 km walk through India through my website. Thankyou, really! You people have been such a strong support system. Have a wonderful week ahead.

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There is one more thing by the way.

Most of you came along on this Substack after reading stories from Saving a Village. There I mentioned the urgency of taking measures against the imminent deforestation, coastal highway projects alongside chemical and oil factories that are about to open up on this eco-sensitive zone. This might end up destroying many villages, including mine, and thus I have decided to walk this 500 km stretch of land. My aim isn’t political, nor am I pointing fingers at any specific companies or factories. Instead I want to speak in each village about change being the only impermanent thing - but this change being the right direction rather than a wrong one. I do not wish to make myself a hero. If anything I will be happy to witness this piece of land and its dying culture. Although if I end up making people aware about this situation than I will be content thinking that I did what was in my power.

For this I would need your help. To plan out the walk, to take care of necessary supplies means having enough funds. I could start a kickstarter or manage crowdfunding through some other website, but none of those options are available to me here in India. So, I will be dependant on your donations. You can donate through paypal - here’s the link. I can even send out a personalised postcards if the donations are above $30.

I will talk about it in detail in the upcoming newsletters. Thanks again!