Biography of the unkempt European (Diary entry No. 1)
If I had known what was waiting for me in India, I would have stayed at home. My aim was to let the old, boring world behind me and settle down in India, this marvellous country. Some friends of mine, who had already visited India, had told me about it and I became totally enthusiastic about it. They reported on the beautiful countryside, the friendly people and the spiritual experiences they had made. I started dreaming about it, about the life I would live there. The reason for my dream has probably been my knowledge about reality. My whole family was arguing. My parents splitted up with my grand-parents, because my grandfather had been a party member of the NSDAP and has still been a Nazi. I hated them too, but this conflict was not the only reason for my escape from Europe. It has been the whole, western society. The most important matter was: Money! All they cared about was money. Money and how to earn it. No place for feelings and dreams. For love and friendship. This had been my image of my home, before I left it. One day I had the chance to flee: My best friend and his sister decided to leave home for travelling all over the Asian continent. Immediatly I saw my perfect image of India in front of my eyes and without thinking another second about it, I decided to join them. The first months, all of us were really happy and content. We had n’t much, but we didn’t need much to eat. We had all these impressions to digest. Six months after our departure, we finally reached Bombay and decided to stay there for some time. Our plan was to search jobs and to look for a spiritual community, we could join. Unfortunately, we failed. Slowly we realized that it wasn’t that easy to live in this strange country. We missed our families and friends, the familiar environment, the german food and our whole, comfortable life. At the same time, our money seemed to flow away. My best friends’ sister was the the first who wanted to go back home. She became more and more frightened every day. Three months after our arrival in Bombay, my best friend got ill. He became a victim of the smallpox epidemic. That was the final argument for them to leave India. But I hadn’t finished with my dream, I wanted to stay. I wondered, how they planned their return journey, both of them hadn’t enough money. When I asked them about this subject, they told me that they wanted to collecht some money and leave as early as possible. This was the last conversation. The next day they had gone, not without taking my whole money with them. This was the turning point. I had nothing, only the clothes on my body. I wasn’t able to pay the hostel and lived on the streets, begging for food and something to drink. Of course, I became ill, too. I have no idea what to do; I havn’t got anybody who helps me. India, especially Bombay, possesses enough of these stranded, homeless, illusionated Europeans, who have no place in life. And I’m no exception.