it’s been a dream that come true. i remember a conversation that abmi and i had six years ago, about going to india someday. i remember last year on putting a prayer flag at the door of my rented house, making a little wish to go to dharamsala soon. five days ago i was still there, i felt like crying when i have to leave the sight of moonpeak. the snow. the march. the warmth of people in north indian winter. the tibetan vibes and monastery. it was my first trip overseas after five years, it was abmi’s first trip abroad. i know i had cry to see this places in my dream.
i arrived yesterday in jogjakarta. still feeling the major flush of emotions in my face in the indira gandhi international airport in delhi. the new best friends across the world. the major noise of delhi and the crowd. the food. the books. the music. the haggling. the market. even the way i started to move my head when i’m trying to decide something. the different language in my head. the cold breeze of delhi and the sound of auto everywhere. i know i left parts of me in india somehow.
the tibetan march. immolation. whitney houston death in an indian television. the bomb in delhi. the magic of how the outside world revolve in our journey. the personal memories. the here and the now.
i said to abmi, in our journey, maybe in the bus or maybe in our kashmiri style room in mcleod ganj, “while you collect new families, i’m a collector of memories.”
delhi-dharamsala trip still leave me speechless. this post is an attempt to wake me up where i don’t want to wake up.
skyline of new delhi – connaught place | chandni chowk – old delhi | jama masjid – old delhi
tibetan candle march – dharamsala | moonpeak view from mcleod ganj
photo courtesy of abmi handayani