There was also epidemic sickness, inevitable given the conditions - the cold and damp, and a huge influx of visitors from around the world, forming a massive crowd packed shoulder to shoulder for long hours as we listen to His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
Luckily(!), it was merely a nasty respiratory virus, a cold that quickly headed into the lungs where it produced a hard, hacking cough. Better this than dysentery I thought, often.
The historical Buddha spent a lot of time in what is now Bihar and the stories I've read of his life describe quiet groves and wild forests, sparkling rivers and fertile land.
Now, the only streams I saw were open drains and what trees still stood were mutilated by the pressing need for firewood and animal fodder. Their leaves were covered in such a thick film that I cannot understand how they could photosynthesise at all. Plastic rubbish was everywhere.
One of the Buddha's most famous teachings happened on Vulture's Peak mountain. Today it feels like another planet, not just another time. There's a crowded car park, shops, noise, crowds. The path winding up the hill is lined with stalls on one side and beggars on the other. We left them behind as we climbed still higher, passing deep caves that housed generations of meditators, to reach the small plateau at the peak, the site of the most influential Buddhist teaching on the nature of reality. On the mountaintop, in the relative quiet, I made offerings and the traditional Buddhist prayers for the deceased. News of Chris Creswell's death had reached me in India, a bewildering shock. Like so many others, Chris and I had plans; I'd spoken to him just before I left, about politics and beehives.
In India, I was already confronted with human frailty, suffering, mortality. Some of the beggars are crippled in ways that can scarcely be comprehended, all the more shocking to witness because of reports of kids being deliberately maimed in order to make them more effective beggars.
My needs were reduced to the simple and most basic: I'm thirsty, is this water okay to drink? If I drink this now, will I be able to find a toilet later? Should I eat this or will it make me sick?
There is so much to be grateful for as I settle back into my life here in Whanganui. But my gratitude is also punctuated by sadness, as we are losing so much here too that is precious. There is such pressure on our wild places, our rivers and lakes, our social connections, our rural communities. Kindness, empathy, a shared belief in a fair go, social equality, these things too are being eroded.
I resume sharing this weekly column as a way to honour Chris, who was so very excited about it. He wasn't a writer by training and it made him a bit nervous I think - but he had plenty to say and he poured time and energy into crafting the columns he wrote.
Chris' death is a huge loss for our community. His life though, that stands as inspiration. May I remember to keep asking myself, 'how can I be more like Chris?'. All the while, being completely myself. Just as Chris was so perfectly himself, bringing all of his gifts to all the places he showed up, leaving nothing out.
-Rachel Rose is contemplating how to condense her life and interests into a one-line biography
