December 10, 2024
More lessons on Humanity, Generosity, and the Cycle of Connection
Because I had nothing material to offer Walter’s family for their hospitality, I attempted to gift them an envelope with some cash. Without even opening it, they flatly rejected it. Their kindness was unwavering and heartfelt, and my attempt to put a price tag was wrong.
Walter accompanied me for about five miles before turning back, while I continued my journey. Along the way, I stopped to buy some local bananas. When I paid, the shopkeeper returned ₹10, saying they cost only ₹10—not the ₹20 I had offered.
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I had thought the highlight of my day would be seeing MotaaCycle meet its twin (Walter’s fat bike), but the day had more in store for me.
Haves and Have-Nots
The people here have what’s essential to survive and live a respectable life: modest homes, minimal belongings, and just enough food. No excesses of clothes, food or anything else.
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Traveling through Northeast India has made me reflect on the contrast with South India, where food, education, and development are abundant. The difference feels akin to comparing a developed country with a developing one. Yet, despite their poverty, the people I met consistently offered me chai or food—a testament to their generosity.
To reciprocate, I made it a point to buy from small local vendors: bananas, oranges, and homemade snacks.
A Sweet Encounter
Later, I stopped at a roadside shack selling wild fruits and homemade plantain chips. I bought some chips and fresh sticky rice wrapped in plantain leaves. The family at the shack had a baby, so I offered them a couple of oranges. Though local, oranges can still be a luxury for many here. The baby loved them, but I had no more to share.
Feeling bad, I rode ahead until I found more oranges a few yards down the road. I returned to the shack to give the baby more oranges. The baby accepted them happily, but the mother insisted on reciprocating. She gifted me more of her homemade plantain chips and sticky rice packets.
These simple yet profound human interactions are why I cycle. Even without a common language—me speaking little Garo and they knowing no Hindi or English—we connected on a human level.
I left the shack with a heavy yet grateful heart, thanking my stars, good health, and the language students who supported my travels by taking classes from me.
Riding Onward
As I left Garo Hills and entered the more familiar Khasi Hills, I felt like I was returning home because I "knew" the language. But the journey was far from over, with many hills to climb.
“Hills” is an understatement here—they rise and fall endlessly. Only at the end of the day do you realize why your body feels so drained. Today alone, I climbed a total of 6,300 feet in elevation gain, and I still hadn’t found a safe place to spend the night.
As night fell, the cold set in, and I wasn’t sure if I was bonking from exhaustion. I wandered from one shop to another, chatting with locals, but not overly concerned about the darkness or finding a shelter.
I initially planned to spend the night at a roadside tea stall until someone mentioned a guesthouse atop a nearby hill. At around 8 PM, I started climbing again. After a steep ascent, I found the guesthouse, negotiated a price, and secured a spot to sleep in their kitchen area.
They provided me with a mattress and a few cups of hot water, and I was set for the night. I didn’t know if I’d be riding the next day or hitching a ride in a pickup truck. I had an annual day celebration to attend at the Nongstoin Warmshowers school, and I didn’t want to miss it.
Today's ride: 90 km (56 miles)
Total: 1,830 km (1,136 miles)
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