Stolen diary
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From February to April 2003 we undertook a trip to India and Nepal. Unfortunately at the end of our journey in Daramshalla (North India) my unique diary with detailed description of our expedition, with sketching of landshafts and buildings, with dried plants between the pages was stolen. To repeat now that I already wrote, to rebuild my diary again is not possible because of my changing feelings at events and places. So I want to give an account of my travel and describe: what has happened and how did my diary come to be stolen? I will start from the start. |
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Nepal, Pochara.
It was the last day of our trecking. We came back to Pochara. Hungry, tired but really proud of the track we had made. The weather was excellent and Annapura again showed us her white head and I couldn’t believe that just several days ago we were meeting the sun rising at the foot of this beautiful mountain in Annapura Base Camp at a height of more then 4000 metres. And again we were in Pochara looking at Annapura from the distance, walking through the streets and thinking about our travel.
It was seventh week of our journey and we had already visited lots of places in India and Nepal and did lots of activities: we explored the land of Sam Sand Dunes of Indian desert by walking in our own company without any guides, looking for different birds and animals. We ate the food prepared on the fire, slept under the starlit sky. We saw many beautiful cities, among them, golden sandstone Jaisalmer with crenellated city walls, romantic Udaipur, that is also called 'Venice of the East' and ‘pink Jaipur’ that has such name because of the ochre-pink hue of its old buildings. We admired historic and architectural places such as: Chittaurgarh Fort with its unbelievable victory towers, patterned Dilwara Jain Temples, impressive figures adorning the walls of Ellora and Ajanta Caves, shining Golden Temple in Potan and that morning we completed a treck in Annapura reserve…
Our money was finished and we stopped near the first bank. The sun was shining brightly, playing on the screen of cash machine, so I pressed a wrong botton and instead of 30 dollars received 300. My eyes became round in perplexity. But, what is done cannot be undone.
India, Dharamshala, two weeks later
This lovely, small town in the North of India became a home for the Tibetan government after China occupied Tibet. The town is located on the mountain so most hotels and cafes are on the top, then administration buildings, ministries and library are at the bottom. That morning we were going to the library for a meditation lesson. The road went down through the small forest and usually takes 45 minutes. In the middle of the way we met an old monk who stopped. As we draw level with him he shook his walking stick in front of me. What did it mean? After we reached the library we appeared that the lesson would be in three hours.
Four hours later I was going back after the meditation lecture on my own. My husband decided to spend time reading his book and stayed in the hotel. I was walking and thinking all the way up about him. Why does he hate Indians?
“What time is it?”, asked somebody.
I raised my eyes and saw an Indian guy. Being absorbed in my own thoughts I didn’t noticed him standing on the cliff.
- What is the time?, asked somebody again.
I answered but the guy didn’t understand or made a sign that he didn’t understand. He grabbed my arm like he wanted to see my watch and suddenly threw chilli into my eyes. Then he pushed me from the cliff. He pushed me more and more, farther and farther from the road. I nearly rolled down with him through the bushes and sharp stones. From the first second I realised that I was in trouble and started screaming as loud as I could, hoping that the monks who were walking behind me would hear and help. But it was all that I did. The guy was quite slim and not tall at all. But he acted so confident: grabbed my arm, threw chilli to my eyes, pushed me from the cliff, was all the time under me… My scream made him nervous and next moment I saw a big stone under my head. In one-second time stopped and I imagined this stone hitting my forehead and blood all round me and me lying here in the bushes quite far from the road, far enough for nobody to see me.
“What do you want?”, I asked.
But in that moment the guy took off my belt bag and released my arm. He ran away one way and me in another. It was the happiest moment of my life. I was free! I was alive! I was just robbed.
I don’t know why I did it but several minutes before the accident I took all my money, about 200 dollars, from my belt bag and put it into my pocket. So after the guy ran away with my bag I stayed with my money. I imagined the face of him when he opened the bag and found all my treasures: diary, sketching of landshafts, dried plants, Russian passport, air ticket to Moscow, several credit cards, handkerchief, brush and other things that can be useful just to the owner. In two minutes I crawled to the road and saw a monk. I ran to him but he just looked at me, understanding that something bad had happened but didn’t understand English and was probably thinking: what must be, must be. In a second I saw a European guy. He was more active: asked what happened, gave me water to clean my eyes that were hurting, offered his help in catching the robber.
In a minute I saw my husband who was coming to meet me. We visited the doctor who looked at my eyes. In fact, my glasses saved them. Next was the police officer who said: “we never get accidents in Dharamshala”.
In an evening I again visited the police station to take a copy of the robbery report. The policeman said that I must change my story and say that I lost my passport and air ticket without mentioning a robber and an attack.
“I don’t want to change anything”, answered me.
“In this way you’ll be spend three months here until we don’t find this bandit”, said policeman. “Ok, I’ve got time”, said me.
After this he gave me the paper that I wanted and a first accident was mentioned in Dharamshala.
Deli, one week later
In Deli we visited the Russian embassy and received a letter that let me returned home. We got another Indian visa and restored my air ticket. For the last two weeks of our journey because my husband’s money was finished we were using money that stayed in my pocket after the robbery.
What else can I say? What must be, must be.