25th of October, 2024.
It’s been almost three months since everything happened, and I haven’t written a word about it yet. I mean, I have told people, but I haven’t written in my journal, so this is a first. Here’s what happened…
I left Bombay on the right next day after spending a glorious morning with Aamir Khan. Yes, we met again. Twice this time! And it was, again, dreamy! But that’s a story for my next post. Let’s start with this bad news, so we can totally forget about them after and only remember what really maters… Aamir. Laugh.
This time, with a ticket on hands, the train trip to Amritsar was only long, but not adventurous.
I decided to spend the night in the train station instead of walking to the gurdwara of the Golden Temple, because it would be easier, as the station is nearer the Pakistan border.
As I have never staid in a train station in India before, I had no idea that the waiting rooms are not safe, as there are no cameras there. But I should’ve known that. Staying by the platforms, where lots of people are waiting for trains, would be safer; noisier, but still the best option. I staid in one of the waiting rooms.
I opened my camping mattress on the floor, laid down on The Hulk, and had my small backpack by my chest, but without actually wearing it, like with the handles on my shoulders. That was another mistake. But only because I was certain that, even if someone was to try and take it away from me, I would wake up, I would feel it, and I would listen to it, as there were little bells in one of my keychains which my students from Thailand gave it to me. Well, I didn’t wake up.
Only after a few minutes as the bag was gone, most likely, was that I woke up.
It is difficult to explain how did I feel, really. I think that for a long time I was just not believing that it actually happened.
Inside there was everything, and absolutely everything that could be important and crucial to me. The only important thing that remained with me was my life. Laugh. Cry. There was my brand new laptop; my old camera but which hold a deep emotional meaning to me; my wallet with all my Brazilian documents and, of course, my passport; my original Diploma from Brazil and other certificates, very important and which were very difficult and expensive to get all the way from Brazil to Thailand; a brand new Klean Kanteen stainsteel bottle, 2 litres, which was a gift from a lovely friend from France; my glasses prescription (yes, it is important!); my Pakistan Visa; and the most important thing of all: my external drive, 1 TB, with all the photos and writings of my seven years travelling around the world. All my memories, gone like that for ever, in an instant. Didn’t I have any copy of them? Yes, of course I had, three copies. All of them inside that same backpack. No, no copies online.
Well, that’s not entirely true… to that date, 2nd of August, I had already published on my blog everything that had happened to me until then. And to each of those posts, I had some photos. Plus the post on Instagram, where sometimes there were more photos than on the blog. But that’s by far not all the photos of my travels. Probably something around fifty percent only. Plus, many of my writings, personal ones, were not saved anywhere else.
One of the biggest loss was also the only photo I took with Aamir these last times we met. Cry.
I spent the whole morning at the police station, filling a FIR. They were not very solicited, I must say. And when it was for them to put me on a train to New Delhi, it was even worse, and I felt as I was not in one of my favourite states and favourite cities of India anymore.
Yeah, I needed to go to Delhi to contact my Embassy and order a new passport. In a brief phone call with the head of the Consulate Department from the Brazilian Embassy, Tassiano, I was told that once in Delhi I would go to one of the few hotels who would accept me without a passport, and to remain there until Monday, as that day was a Friday (of course it was), when I could finally go to the Embassy. Tassiano would also leave me some allowance for food and transportation for the weekend.
After crying my eyes out for hours on the train, I finally put myself together for a moment, and in conversation with two lovely young men, got help of how to get a tuk-tuk from the station to my Embassy, where an envelope with cash and instructions was waiting for me with the security guard. In another circumstances, I would love that idea and feel myself pretty much like a James Bond. The two lovely young men ran with me to help me to catch a trustful tuk-tuk, as they were about to miss their last train home. I really hope they have managed.
During the ride, I had my first conversation in Hindi with the tuk-tuk driver, and that filled my heart with an unexpected joy, as I thought that by now it was all gone. He told me that if I was to spend one year in India I would be fluent in Hindi. I chose to believe him.
I couldn’t have asked for a nicer person to be my Consul. I mean, the Embassy of Brazil in Delhi Consul. Tassiano is one of the sweetest and most helpful souls I have ever met, and being in such an important position, while still being so thoughtful and kind, makes him an even better person. He helped me so much during the whole process of issuing a new passport, waiting for an answer from the Government of India, allowing me to leave the country without holding my original Visa, until buying the flight tickets, which he paid himself, with his own card, just so we could get a better deal without needing to wait longer. He actually did that trice, as I also needed to pay for my passport and get some cash for expenses. My sister transferred the amounts for him right away after that. And on the first day we met, I even had lunch at his home, where I met his also lovely and adorable wife, Beatriz.
In total, I had to stay in New Delhi for 10 days. I moved from the fancy hotel where I staid for the weekend, and which cost me a fortune (not really, but for me, you know?), to a cheap hostel, the nearest one to my Embassy.
Then I got extremely sick. Like the sickest I have ever been in life and during my travels. I have only got food poison once, in Ladakh if you remember, but back then it lasted only a few hours, and right after I was already climbing a badass mountain, with both my backpacks. This time, I couldn’t eat or drink anything for 40 hours, which made me lose 5 kilos in three days. Only after going to the hospital and taken some serious medicine, I started to get better. Lots of people said that it was most likely a mix of food poison and emotional break down. I chose to believe them too.
As for leaving India, I had two options: either go back to Brazil, trying to apply for something like “unable to cover expenses”, and my Embassy would have to cover the flights expenses; or I could try and go back to Thailand, as I lived there for one year before coming to India, with work permit and residency, plus my bank was not allowing me to get a new card, and regain access to my money, unless I would be back to Thailand.
Tassiano told me that, he hadn’t witnessed one single case of stolen passport where the FRRO (organ responsible for issuing an exit permit for foreigners in despair) has allowed people to go anywhere apart from their home country. Now, I don’t know if the universe made peace again with me or what, but they not only allowed me to go back to Thailand, as that in the exit permit form, there was nothing stating to where I should depart, so basically I could go anywhere really.
At the airport, all went well and I left India with a heart pretty much broken into three pieces: one for my stolen things; one for not being able to go to Pakistan; and the final and biggest one for Aamir, of course. Why? Let me tell you next…
10 Years Around the World 