The Long Journey to Temple Road

​I left my mother and god mother  on Tuesday with the last tender embrace we’d exchange for awhile. With a confident spirit I weaved through TSA to board my first International flight. I received many confusing stares from others boarding Boeing 777 but it was something I expected and did not take to heart.

Sitting in the wrong section of the plane had to be one of the best mistakes I made. To my left sat an older gentlemen named Raja. He was very chatty and intrigued by my adventure. He spoke about the Divine and our connection to its power. He recommended books to read and even helped me find movies to watch during the 12 hour plane ride. Mo Patel sat to my right. A younger man than Raja who didn’t talk at all besides exchanging introductions and back stories. Initially I was very skeptical of these men and their intentions because they seemed to be very invested in my International affairs but as time and conversation deepened I knew I had nothing to fear.
Raja and Mo were very protective of me. We exchanged contact information and they even stayed in the enchanting New Delhi airport long enough for me to get my bags, find a SIM card, and exchange money.
 
It was 10 pm when we parted ways. I took a shower and had a light vegetarian meal before I waited in the lounge for my flight at 6:30 am. I had an uncomfortable nap in the plastic seats with my luggage chained to my bracelets for security measures. After check in at 3:30 am I wondered around the airport to pass the time. Eventually I nestled by my appropriate gate number until the announcement came that my flight 9813 would be delayed an hour. I took this time to use the restroom and find water. After doing so, I realized I ran out of time as they pushed the flight back up. Running to catch the gate before it closed I dropped my boarding pass.
By the time security found it, the flight had left already.
Frustrated and highly overwhelmed I was escorted out of the airport with my bags when two men rushed to my side.
The time was now 8 o’ clock in the morning. They wanted to take me to Dharmashala in their taxi but I did not have ₹25000 for the trip so they offered me a bus ticket and a place to rest while I waited for the bus at 6:50 pm that evening.
I should not have trusted these men. They were very polite and ensured me not to worry. They overcharged me for a fake bus ticket and wanted me to pay for my room to rest. The man at the front desk asked for ₹7800 but I had given most of my money for the bus. The two men spoke back and forth with him and eventually he led us upstairs to a rat hole of a room at the Daya International hotel. They offered me food and beer but I could not stop crying because of the foolish events that led me to where I was at that point.
Over and over again they said don’t worry ma’am you are in good hands and they will get me to the bus station. They drank whiskey, made me drink beer, told me to calm down, and that they would pay for the room. Kumaar and Syng were their names. Syng was dark, skinny, and older with a cast on his foot while Kumaar was a bit younger, lighter skinned, and robust.
The events that followed were quite unpleasant. One man would leave the room while the other forced me out of my clothes and on to the bed to have sex.
“You enjoy!” The men would say when they mounted me, one after the other.
“ I want to rest!” I kept screaming at them as they kept grabbing at me.
“You have a gift for me?” Kumaar asked as he took my gold ring my mother gave me off my finger.
“We are married now,” he said as he put my ring on.
They assured me I’d be taken to the bus stop when the time came. I was exhausted when they left me for an hour and returned with their “uncle” Arill who had similar intentions. Before they left the room for that hour, I grabbed the car keys to make sure they would not leave me there. After Arill left, Syng came back to enjoy me again. I put my clothes on and demanded to be taken to the bus. At this time my phone began to work with the SIM card and I sent an emergency message to my organization for help. I grabbed all of my bags in my hand and rushed to the lobby where the front desk man was yelling for me to pay. The men and the front desk man argued for quite some time when he waved for me to leave. I used the keys to open the car and put my luggage away. Then I got in the back seat and ordered them to take me to the bus. Using the fake ticket information I was able to track my location to the bus. They began to take me there but then tried to stop to show me the sights. I did not get out of the car.
My contact from the organization called and instructed me to get out of the car immediately so that his car can come to pick me up.
I rushed away from the men and across a busy street. I stood out in the open near a family park crying on the phone to my mother while I waited for the car.
My trust worthy ride arrived as promised and took me to the bus. I waited frantically for the bus that never came. I didn’t have enough money for a new ticket so I took a chance and got on the next bus to Dharamshala.
The fake ticket was for a deluxe bus with air conditioning but I boarded an ordinary school bus. The conductor tried to kick me off the bus several times when I explained I had no more money.
Luckily, my friend Raja from the airport called me and he was able to work out a deal letting me ride the bus. After the 10 hour bus ride, he would wire him the appropriate amount for the trip. By the grace of God the bus conductor had a soft heart and didn’t want me to pay once Raja explained my situation over the phone.
I sat at the Himachal bus station where my volunteer coordinator came to pick me up and took me to breakfast until my hotel was ready for me.
I wanted to give up. I was drained both mentally and physically but after a shower and 12 hours of sleep, I hit the reset button to continue this journey.