InkSpired Magazine Issue No. 43 | Page 26

out at a leper colony. Mind-blown aren’t the words to describe it. Later that night, Gurjant and I go to the colony and give bread to some very sweet and grateful people. No, I didn’t get leprosy. However, a few days later, after I go to travel on my own without Gurjant, I get bitten by a horse in the town of Amritsar and this starts a rather crazy string of events. Amritsar is in the north of India and is known for having the most holy of Sikh temples—the Golden Temple. It is dazzling— even more than the Taj in my opinion—and there is a holy, peaceful presence there that even staunch atheists can’t deny. And while Sikhs are some of the kindest people you will ever meet, they will laugh at you when you attempt to pet a horse and it bites the crap out of your hip. I had to go to a doctor and get rabies shots stuck into the same hip, on an exam table in the back of a doctor’s office that looks like a gas station bathroom. But the doctor costs 120 rupees, about 2 American dollars. Later, my throat starts to feel like it is closing up. I worry it could be a reaction, but I go on as normal. I eat a huge meal of delicious fried fish, and then attempt to haggle over a gorgeous Sari I see in one of the shops. In India, haggling, or lowering the original price of something, is almost expected but it has to be done strategically. Liberty for Native New Yorkers: locals don’t really give a damn about these attractions, they’re just part of the everyday landscape and it’s annoying that stupid tourists who dress funny and won’t stop taking pictures flock to them in droves. In person, the Taj Mahal is smaller but no less majestic. One day, while riding with Gurjant, I spot a leper colony. Gurjant tells me he and his family often give bread to the people there. I am fascinated so I ask if we can visit later. Interestingly enough, before this happens, Gurjant tells me about a famous gurin in his village who once accurately predicted a murder. Gurus and psychics along with yoga ashrams are world renown in India, but many chock them up to new age hooey without ever having experienced them firsthand. When Gurjant takes me to see him, we get lost and have to ask directions from a guy sitting on a stool on a street corner doing a henna tattoo on a young girl (I definitely recommend getting hennaed in India—they’re a great way to see how a certain design would look on your skin, and while temporary, some of the henna I stained my nails and still hasn’t washed out. I like to think of it as India’s mark on me). When we finally find the guru, he sits in a small room in a tiny, simple apartment and is chatting with a large family. This dude is popular. When it is my turn, he offers us candy, and Gurjant translates what he says to me in English amidst the backdrop of Diwali explosions. All I give him is my birthdate and birth city. What follows is an arrestingly accurate account of my childhood, family, personality traits, and what will likely happen in the future. I am in tears. He tells me there will be trouble leaving India. He is correct. He also tells me that I will never find true love, that I am what the Indians refer to as Manglik, or born under a bad astrological combination that doesn’t guarantee a happy married life. When I ask how I can fix this, he tells me I should go help 24 InkSpiredMagazine.com On the bus back to New Delhi, which have since gained bad reputations in India due to the horrific gang rape and murder of Jyoti Singh, a strange man climbs onto the bus, stares at me, then gets off. I think he is a passenger, but it turns out he is a creep who has followed me. He looks at me through the window, blowing kisses and licking his lips. While this behavior happens everywhere, it is much more unacceptable in India due to the concept of honor there. The way to solve it is by making a big scene and attracting attention. The guilty man is at risk of being seen as dishonorable and giving his country a bad name. When a man approaches me for sex on the street in Manali, India, I use this same tactic and he apologizes profusely before running away.