India.... a true story?

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Although he was once again landing in Delhi, I could hear the "slap", the Zaffo, quell'inconfondibile afrore assails you when you get off the plane. Sa feed of stuff went wrong, spices, sweat and dirty clothes, shit dry, and many other human things.
At the airport there was Kesar to expect, the dear friend with whom India has worked for many years. Impeccable with his pinstriped suit, his white shirt with a light halo on the collar, his unlikely ties and the two pens in the pocket. Kesar was a tour operator specialized in organizing trips to India, Tibet and Nepal.
I accompanied a Safdarjung Enclave, south of New Delhi, where he had an apartment that I put at the disposal during my stay in India.
"If you want, Alberto, there would be a group of sixteen people who come after ... are Varanasi, Kathmandu, Lhasa, to help you be ..? "I asked Kesar showing the detailed program of the trip when I arrived later in his office. I replied that I would have preferred to wait a while ', I wanted to go a couple of days in Rajasthan to find my Italian friend who lives there. Italian friends who live in Rajasthan, in fact I have not ever had, but since the Indians are very curious was an excuse to avoid too many questions.
Kesar insisted very pretty to get you a car with a driver, but convinced that I preferred to travel by train in the evening.

Who loves mankind, in all its manifestations, from the usual to the most bizarre, it should take a train in India: among its coaches to cook, we eat, we talk, you sell, you buy, you do business, you combine marriage, is like a traveling village. We in the West has lost the habit, if not to prepare meals or haggling, but the most natural and easy to chat. In India people do not listen to music with your phone, do not read magazines, shall, as far as possible, the exact same things you would do if they were in their homes.
It was dark, suddenly, I failed to notice that, with the night and all activities ceased. The passengers lie about in their seats, wrap long shawls, some lying on the ground, in the bluish light of the compartment seemed carpet rolled
The rattle of the train is calm at dawn, the train station in Jodhpur.

I came almost on the fly on a motorisciò that sgasando passed from there. "Fort Meherengard" screams for me to hear.

The room that I loved most of this impressive building constructed in red sandstone in the sixteenth century was one in which we retained the Maharaja with his wife. An immense hall, the walls decorated with frescoes, stucco, colorful game of mirrors, colored stones set on geometric figures, on the ground, huge fine silk rugs, great pillows low surmounted by smaller pillows, all seemed still as the centuries past, as if at any moment the king came with his daughter. But the real peculiarity of this exhibition were the large windows, in the sultry summer afternoons were raised mats wet with rose water, so that the wind, filtering the narrow spaces between the thin reeds, cool and perfumed the room.
I started to feel tired and I sat in a corner, daydreaming about how many loves, betrayals, embraces have seen those beautiful walls. Squint your eyes and for a moment I had the impression of feeling the scent of roses carried by the wind.

He asked me which country in Europe was and why I was in Rajasthan.
"I am Italian ... work for agencies that organize trips, people around the port for India, "I answered.
"And know our country? »
'Well do not say, so that we move, and India is already a great thing. »
The man smiled: he had a shirt with short sleeves with the usual order of pens on the pocket. The white hair combed back licking cow did emphasize his dark chubby face and his quick eyes blacks. If at the beginning I thought, this is the usual rompiscatole now hoping to continue to talk to me.
As usual I was wrong to judge people too hastily.
He had a beautiful name, Ashoka, the great enlightened emperor lived in India in the third century before Christ.
'You instead of what is Mr Ashoka? »
"I am a teacher of mathematics."
"Interesting ... You Indians have a natural inclination for the exact sciences, then zero, you have invented, I think you ... »
"If that is why we invented the god," he said laughing, and continued: "India in mathematics and religion have in common the fact of not being called into question ... perhaps for this reason we are so good ... both things .. "
"I suppose you are Hindu, Mr Ashoka? 'I asked.
Gave me pleasure when he had added something called "Mr. Ashoka", turn in your mouth like that name a snap.
"Really would Jainista" said.
"It would be, or is it? 'I asked again.
"I am. You see, we, as a rationally may have doubts about the existence of all our gods, and if you know India knows how many there are, some even ridiculous, if not grotesque, religion is part of our life and a living as we are living with the rain during the monsoon and the sun during the winter. If our country is still united after two thousand years of guests, including Mongols, Turks, Arabs, and finally the British, it is only through religion. »
Found it odd that he described as "guests" invaders, colonizers and usurpers.
"But what does it differ from the Hindu jainisti Mr Ashoka? 'I asked.
"In everything and in nothing: the jainisti have exaggerated the idea of moral rectitude to fight the caste system, but ended up being a stress their caste. Believe that the release can only be achieved with a total purity, not only of the soul, but also of the body, why can not dirty your hands, can not eat impure foods, like onions for example, is growing underground ... . do not ever find a jainista which is a manual work, and because of this, over the centuries, have exercised only intellectual work or related to the exchange of goods. In reality no different from the Hindus, the jainisti you are just more clever. »
"She is a Catholic 'I asked the professor.
"No, I am not Catholic, I am a Christian"
"It is not the same? What's the difference? »
'Something' as among the Hindus and jainisti 'I replied, and ran from Ashoka laugh.
Then resumed: "The Catholics are bound to the precepts of the church, should receive during the life of the sacraments, must abide by the moral rules are imposed on them in some way, codes of behavior to which everyone should follow to gain heaven and with it eternal life. Very simple! By us, after death, Mr Ashoka, there is reincarnated as you: if you were good go to heaven and remains there, among streams and gardens in bloom until the end of time, if you were bad rather go to hell where everything burns vortices, always until the end of time. Boring! Does not believe Mr Ashoka? »

alberto Nicolai - www.passaggioinindia.net