I planned to leave Delhi as soon as I arrived. Every single part of my body made itself present within hours. My soul ached of a pain probably as old as the Vedic texts. I wanted to run away, go to Thailand float in the comfort of the Mekong. India did not let me. India is like this it speaks to you, it screams, it pushes and compresses you and it is better for you to listen fast what it is saying. In fact, it is better for you to understand that she will turn you inside out and it is you who must heal your own wounds.
How could I have not remembered it? I had been here before. I had however but a vague memory of the sensorial overdoses. I had but a vague memory of how it is that India crushes you only to later gently hum, softly talk, mesmerise.

I did not plan to stay here in Delhi but I made friends. And with them I ended up doing things that were not in my plans at all.
I did for instance, spend a night in a club. I danced and danced and danced and when I was absolutely exhausted I decided to rest in the bathroom of the place. I stood there in silence looking at the Delhi’s club’s bathroom routine. in fact, it was not so different from anywhere else in the world. There are girls who come in to share secrets, girls who put make up on, they use the bathroom, and there are of course also the ones who come because they feel sick. I stood there in the corner just looking, when suddenly a young girl came in. She looked terribly shaken. She immediately took the first available toilet, and as she went in a friend came after her. she took a while. the friend knocked on the door. she did not answer. The friend stood still.She waited. I waited too. I wondered whether she was ok. She came out looking awful, she did not answer any of the hindi questions posed to her. She sometimes would venture to start speaking but she could not. She would point her own throat. I could feel her words had either dried up, or were to wet to come out.

 I looked at her without pretending not to be looking. And after about 10 minutes of silence I asked her whether she was ok. I knew fully well that was not alcohol wrongdoing that was pain as old as time itself. She still took a long time to say anything. I kept looking at her. Kindly, expressing my support. A few minutes later I repeated my question looking deeply into her eyes ” are you ok?”. Her friend, who turned out to be her sister, remained silent. The girl broke out ” My boyfriend just told me I am not good enough for him, and left with another girl and left me here in this club.” I wanted to hug her. I wanted to magically take her pain away. I smiled and told her” you will be fine. Do not let anyone undermine your self esteem. He screwed up badly. We all do. Forget it. I know you will not believe me now. But it will pass. Time will heal it. Feel whatever it is that you have to feel, but then after let it go.” she looked at me, not very convinced. ” I am not like other grils. i speak too much, I am not beautiful like my sister. He left me because he wants a normal girl.”

I told her all that I could, I told her about my own life, my ow departure. I just wanted her to know that she was quite special, and she would be fine. She smiled and asked me how old I was. “29” I said. “See I am only 18”. I wanted to hug her, I wanted to tell her that pain like this when you are 18 is more painful. It feels like alcohol in a cut. After, with time, the wounds still ache, they throb but it is in a more controllable and familiar way, instead I just smiled, reached her shoulder and held her. She hugged me and broke out in tears. I let her overflow, and in her tears I healed my own wounds. It was a bit like in the legend of Kairos. We were both there in the bathroom of a club supporting each other. Linked by anything but our humanity, our weaknesses and strength.

She dried up her tears, and suddenly said ” I am thankful you were in my path. You already did too much for me, but can I ask you one more thing?” I nodded. “Can you dance with me , I want to feel some joy”. I smiled, and said that I thought there was no better idea than that. We walked out and in the middle of a club in Delhi. In the middle of Shiks, Hindus, Muslims, foreigners I danced with a 18 year old broken hearted girl our pain away. And there I knew in my whole body, that the struggles would not disappear but I was now thankful and able to deal with them. There I remembered that pain is as