Human Strength

I have had more contact with people suffering from leprosy in the last three months than I have ever had before. Its a evil disease. Cannibalistic. Full of such a pain, that it not only eats the body but nibbles away at sanity. Mcleod Ganj is full of people living with leprosy. Living in a limbo. Mind trying to keep hold of the physical reality which the bacteria is destroying.

I had daily interactions with many people which would leave me feeling more than empty. I don't want to forget these interactions because it was during these times I saw real courage and human strength. It was during these times that a mirror was held up to my own beautiful life.

One morning I turned the corner to find the old mad but beautiful man sitting by the side of the road. He had removed the pile of dirty bandages from around his septic feet. He was holding a blunt grey knife which was was using to try to cut the dead part of his once living flesh from his feet. A small boy wearing a starched school uniform was standing in the middle of the road. The small boy was clearly mesmorisied by this live amputation. The old mad but beautiful man seemed not to notice either of us.

Another morning, the old mad but beautiful man was sitting outside of the Peace Cafe. I wished him a 'Namaste' as always but rather than smiling back, he complained about needing food. Today he was too hungry for jokes. I pointed to the cafe but he wouldn't come inside with me. Unable to communicate through any other way than hand signals and smiles I motioned to him to wait and that I would bring him some food outside. I asked the Tibetan man in the Peace Cafe to make some breakfast for the old mad but beautiful man. The Tibetan man appeared confused. So I asked for some eggs and toast. He nodded, but seemed reluctant and then a few seconds later took out a piece of Tibetan bread. The old mad but beautiful man refused the bread. I burned with shame.

Another Old Happy Man – a different one – asked me for food. I had just given away all my change, all my daily supply of bandages, iboprofen and iodine solution so I shook my head. He patted his stomach just in case I hadn't realised really how hungry he was. I shook my head again. I walked away. He followed. Someone had given him a lit cigarette. He showed me his find. He turned the cigarette around, he put the lit end inside his mouth and made appreciative eating sounds. I walked on.

One morning I passed the Young Wrinkled Man sitting in the quiet of Bhagsu. This was the first time I had seen him outside of Mcleod Ganj. Bhagsu is a twenty minute walk away from his usual begging area. But that morning the Young Wrinkled Man wasn't begging. He told me his just felt like a walk. He told me that it was a beautiful morning. He sat on the grass. Smiling. Begging tin hidden inside his coat. Fingerless hands hidden inside his pocket.

Another morning, I waited for the Young Wrinkled Man to find me. When he did I dug through my day pack full of expensive but unnecessary 'things' to find a Massive Magic Mandala. I offered him the Mandala. I decided the original owner of the Mandala would approve of its new home. I guessed the Young Wrinkled Man could sell it, or even wear it. The Massive Magic Mandala had been laying on the floor of my room for three months. I had been using it as a sort of carpet to shield my feet from the cold of the stone.

One day I caught myself watching the old woman who had eaten my flower. She was eating daal and rice. She was digging her wrist inside her begging pot, piling the rice onto her handless joint and then bringing it carefully to her mouth, rice falling down her dirty saire. She was squatting with her back to the street, facing the wall, surrounded by her collection of sorted rubbish.

I knew that the old woman who had eaten my flower liked sweets. I gave her a lolly pop. I forgot to remove the wrapper for her.

I had a pair of woolen gloves which I no longer needed. I wanted to give them to a beggar. I felt embarrassed. My gloves had room for eight fingers and two thumbs. The beggars have none. I still have my gloves, which I don't need even for my eight fingers and two thumbs.

For more about Leprosy see:

Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leprosy

Lepra: http://www.lepra.org.uk/home.asp