One Night In Chandigarh

My dad decided to turn in early; he had arranged for a driver to take us to Jalandhar the next morning and wanted to get a good night's sleep. But I was getting a second wind after my abbreviated workout, so I showered and headed down to the hotel restaurant. I still wasn't hungry, but I thought I might sit on the balcony, have a drink, and mull over the day’s adventures. 

Alone at my table, I instinctively reached in my pocket for my phone. When I found it empty, I felt a surge of gratitude—I had been forced to undertake this trip with minimal phone service, my phone no longer buzzing and beckoning. Instead of wandering through India with my head bent, staring, and scrolling, I was set free with the constant hustle of the world around me. Without my phone, I wasn’t just a stranger in a strange land but another person moving through the streets, connected to all the people and places around me. India pulsed with an insistent, irrepressible energy that refused to let me just go through the motions. 

But now I was alone on the hotel's quiet balcony in the cool night air. I heard the low murmurs of the few other guests, the occasional rumble of quiet laughter. We were insulated and secluded by the tall bushes surrounding the balcony and so, India’s hustle was elsewhere for the moment. 

I thought about the hostess who had greeted me tonight. Her big, warm, kohl-lined eyes had faltered when I asked to sit outside. Maybe she had been confused by my English, but she'd turned away quickly, almost breaking into a run, and returned with a bookish fellow who handed me a menu and showed me to my table. I looked around for the hostess now, longing for her, but she was gone. 

Our trip had been everything I'd hoped for, but I suddenly realized I missed the company of women—a glance, a soft smile, the ebb and flow of flirtation, searching for hints of mutual attraction. There seemed to be so few women out and about in Punjab, unless they were with family or a group of friends. Personal safety and reputation were at stake here. It was certainly different than what I saw in Europe or other Western countries. I could visit the discotheques and bars in the Punjabi cities we visited and probably get attention as an American, though I wasn’t here for that. But it was in these quiet moments to myself that I missed sharing that stillness with a woman I cared for.  

I leaned back in my chair and gazed up; the sky was infinitely black, illuminated by a bright pinpricks of stars. I searched for constellations and quickly found Orion, each point flickering like a distant campfire. Looking up at the vast, infinite night sky, I felt my human smallness as a comfort, as I searched for connection and meaning in the darkness.