The nurses gathered with us and Govinda started telling them about how much it means to him that they were here and that they are always welcome. He said he may not be alive but they will always have a place in his heart and at this hospital with the people of Juanga. He also gave advice close to "life is everything, life is love, love is everything". Goretti started crying halfway through and the other two were soon sniffing back tears as well. We said our goodbyes as well and then got in the car with Govinda. It was strange to be leaving before them in the morning when they were the ones going home.
We had been told all week that we'd be accompanying Govinda for moral support when he got his MRI in cuttack. We got in the rented car with Connor, Govinda, the driver, myself and one of the hospital staff. After about 20 minutes, we pulled over and picked up the hosptial pharacist who often fills the role of chef, and surgical assistant. Another hour after that, a person we'd never seen before climbs in with us without a word. I didn't realize how much we had been relying on Biku to answer our questions until they were left unanswered for hours. We drove in silence as usual and seemed to be passing familiar landmarks. After another while, the man we never knew and would never know got out.
By the time we got to the main highway, Connor and I were sure it was the road to Bhubaneswar. Govinda confirmed this suspicion.
We pulled over next to a herd of goats under the overpass and sat. After about 40 minutes with no change, a man pulled up on a motorcycle, handed Govinda a wad of rupees and rode off.
We were stopped on one of our turns off the highway by a couple police officers who demanded to see our drivers license. He didn't have one or didn't have it on him so we were told to pull over. After a while, the hosptial staff member got out and paid them 200 rupees before we were able to drive off.
We arrived at Biku's former medical school hospital and the jack-of-all-trades went immediately to work, pushing to the front of crowds to get Govinda seen as early as he could. After checking in on the ground level, we went to the 4th floor to see a neurologist. We waiting about half an hour with our emissary constantly standing by and opening the office door until Govinda was seen. We made it back downstairs to the MRI area and waiting there for a while. First it seemed like we'd have to come back Friday, then maybe they could squeeze us in at 5 that day. Finally, after our man disappeared for a long while (after taking some cash from Govinda), he was ushered in right away.
While he was having the MRI, Connor and I were sitting in the crowded waiting area and were approached by a nun wearing a blue and white habit. She asked us where we were from and what we were doing here and I asked her the same. She works for mother Teresa's organization that has houses for the poor, hospitals, leper colonies all over the world. I wanted to talk with her more but Govinda finished and ended our conversation. I'm not sure what she wanted or why she decided to come talk to the only white people there, but it was interesting.
We got done around 4, and Govinda insisted that we go to a bar (but don't tell Biku). We agreed on the condition there would be food as well. We went back to the same little hotel/bar/shops that Biku brought us last time, but went into the hotel bar instead. Govinda ordered a bottle of wine (the options were red, or white, premium or regular). It was a Cabernet Shiraz blend that was served cold. The classes were filled to the very top, to the point that it was diffult to drink without spilling. The only descriptor I can use for the wine is bad. It was bad. We also ordered a bunch of food. Whatever was ordered first, the other 4 would get the same thing. Individuality and trying new things seems to be frowned upon. Govinda tried to get a second bottle of the bad red, but we convinced him to try something new so we all got mojitos. There was a Bollywood movie playing on the tv on the wall at a normal volume and everyone ate and drank in silence. I didn't realize how much the Spanish girls added to the group until now. Without their laughs and cheerful disregard for Indian customs, It was like drinking alone.
We stopped for chai on the 3 hour ride back and tried unsuccessfully to steal a few moments of sleep from the potholed road.
We got back well after dark and Biku was back from dropping the girls at the airport. Connor and I napped for a few minutes before dinner and then I packed for a while. I'm borrowing Connors backpack for my travels and wanted to see if I could fit what I needed. It's a 19 liter bag and lighter than I've traveled for a trip of this length. The backpack I brought to India is 35 liters and clearly identifies me as a traveller. Connors is the size of a small school bag and is a nondescript brown. I'm excited about it.
Went to sleep before my head hit the pillow.
-AB
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