An Example of Creative Writing/Poetry for Print
India
By Jackie Griffiths
While I was there, it took me two weeks to get over the culture shock.
I have never really travelled before, this was my first time,
and for a first-timer India is quite a slap in the face.
Wake up, wake up!
Look at this life
Look at this land.
It's like nothing you've ever seen before.
Why?
Because India is...
Full of piles of rubble. It's everywhere. Inside the arrivals lounge at the airport. On roads, streets, paths, in parks. At restaurants, bus and train stations. In housing estates.
Heat.
Dust.
Dirt.
Pollution.
Noise.
Men hacking and spitting everywhere.
...all in extreme intensity.
It's not mildly warm, it's burning hot. It's not slightly loud, it's excruciatingly noisy. It's not vaguely polluted it's choking in smog.
India is...
Good, tasty, cheap food.
Cows wandering, standing, sitting. Mules, donkeys, camels, asses, horses, pigs, elephants, dogs, chickens. All in the streets.
There are...
Colourful people, both physically and metaphorically.
Beautiful people, both physically and mentally.
In India there are strong smells (incense, toilets, food, rubbish dumps, pollution, urine, fear, hope).
Behold the Indomitable mountains,
wild, hard and brilliant.
Their will is tougher than yours. They will devour your strength, feed your weaknesses of mind and body. There is no debate, give them respect. They win every time.
Hot, arid, flat, dusty plains. Sizzling in heat haze, boiling intensity.
Green lush fertile lands.
Workers squatting in the rich brown fields, cutting the grasses.
Using them.
In India life is tough for animals and humans.
India is full of life.
Life is India.
I have learned that:
1) Anything can happen at any time
2) There is always room for more people to squeeze on (no matter what the transport - bus, train, motorbike, cycle rickshaw, auto rickshaw etc)
3) Anyone can do anything
4) Any animal can crop up anywhere
5) Don't be surprised about anything; anything is possible
6) There is always a man with a bicycle (no matter where, or what time of day or night, he is there, on the train tracks, on the highway, at the airport, in a shop, next to the bus)
In India, I climbed up to 4,270 meters above sea level on foot (half the height of Everest, more than three times as high as the highest mountain in Britain). It finished me off, taught me I was not as fit as I thought I was, showed me it's unforgiving face. Punishment for daring to forget to be humble. Be humble. Be very humble.
In India I soared from lofty peaks in my mind on a kite out into the thin fresh air of hanging glaciers, mountaintop lakes, desolate plateaux as free as the wind. I could see anything, go anywhere. Then I dived into deep black troughs; despair everywhere, nowhere to go, blind, pathetic, sobbing. Stuck and covered in grime.
I laughed with joy and cried hysterically. I was broken and dumped, buoyed and uplifted. India woke me up and gave me life, surprise, terror and fear handed on a plate, stuffed it down my throat. No choice. This is what you're getting. Swallow.
Madam want fear? Here it is on the bus, descending from the Rohtang Pass, 3,987 meters above sea level. Bumpy, dusty road, packed bus. Incredible heights, sheer drops on one side; winding, fast skidding driving. No fence or wall between bus and painful death miles below on the lonely craggy valley floor. Wheels centimetres from going over. Again and again and again and AGAIN, for three hours. Everybody vomited. I didn't. But had a dry mouth, sweating palms and a psychedelic hypnotised brain. Staring near-death in the face once more. Just shut up and bear it. Bus driver bored and hurrying to get home. Everyone tries to keep control over bowels and bladder and mind.
Madam want terror? Here it is on the mountain side. You haven't eaten today, you carry your pack and worldly goods on your back, your shoulders and back and legs ache. You are semi-lost and you don't trust the leader of the group: he's guessing where the pass is. He is leaving you behind anyway, he doesn't care and he doesn't know. There are bears in the caves up here. You are tired and cold, and where is there to camp? It's vertical scree, fallen boulders.
Not possible to pitch a tent.
Not possible.
Not possible...
Darkness will be coming down.
I can't go on, I can't go on; oh please, oh please, wait for me, wait for me...
[Aside to reader] I am not normally like this. I don't normally panic.
You see, until India I never really feared for my life. I lived in a safe place in a safe way, safely. No fear.
No need to really open eyes. Don't need to really watch out. All is known-about. Rules, safety nets. England. Nice. But always safe.
I had an amazing time. It was hot and confusing, chaotic, frightening and shocking.
Never, ever boring.
There didn't seem to be any logical rules about anything, at any time. We guessed and second guessed, and hoped and muddled our way through, usually finally getting what we wanted - with a bit of luck thrown in.
India seems to be held together with bad DIY - bits of wire, pieces of string, putty and tape. But it works.
God knows how, but it certainly works.
You just have to get used to it and not care about getting your hands dirty.