Surat - Dindoli - Vanz - 19 km / 12 miles
Erico and I meet at 7:30 for breakfast in the dining room of the Grand Pragati Hotel before departing on our walk to Vanz. This is going to involve a very long walk crossing the city of Surat with all of its traffic, noise, pollution and bustle. The industry is primarily textile and we’re approached by men trying to lure us in for the business of selling us wholesale saris. Well, I’d love to have an array of saris but it’s not possible today! The walking is more anonymous than usual but still very friendly considering the density, noise and congestion. We cross a bridge and below us is a massive slum. Again I wonder whether life in the village is worth leaving for this environment but since Surat had a pneumonic plague outbreak in 1994 it has grown to be a leader in public health initiatives and is one of the cleanest cities in India. And it seems innovation is everywhere when it comes to earning a living. Barbers hang their mirror on a public wall, put out a chair and they’re in business for the day. The air smells of kerosene as families set about cooking breakfast. People request selfies with us. Everything flows but it is intense and loud and the traffic a concern. After several hours we get through and past it and feed onto a concrete road where it becomes far easier to walk and look about. Suddenly I hear a loud crack and a woman’s voice calling out. It comes from a couple walking down a residential street, the man semi-naked and self-flagellating, his wife beating loudly on a drum, calling to people in their homes. In my mind I conclude he is taking on the sins of others in exchange for money but I have yet to learn if this is the true purpose of the scene.
We arrive in Dindoli where I recall reading about a house related to Gandhi’s visit. The owner of a juice bar, busy washing the floor before opening for the day, invites us to sit and rest while Erico pulls out Weber’s book. Reading there is a house in Dindoli where Gandhi stayed he asks around if anyone knows of its location. The shopkeeper of a children’s clothing store is familiar with it and gets on his phone for directions then along with his friend from Jaipur takes us there in his car. It’s a lovely two-storey house with beautiful wood doors and columns along the front verandah. The present owner uses it for storage but it also contains photos and Gandhi memorabilia belonging to the previous owner. It is very dark inside. Erico stacks a pile of books on a table and parks the camera up top, opens the lens wide and captures the scene, the only photograph I saw him stage this way. His eye is so quick and his sensitivity to light and composition masterful. The men drive us back, exchanging social media numbers before parting and on we walk- and walk - and the day grows hotter- and hotter. The landscape has opened up but I admit it isn’t holding my attention today because the noise and pollution crossing Surat have hampered my senses. Food would help. Walking towards Vanz, women are selling coconuts from their roadside stands. I select one from a pile stacked tall before a young mother. She is seated on a stool, gently pulling on a rope attached to a hammock containing a young baby. He sits up and watches me with big eyes, all the bigger for the black eyeliner. With one swoop of a long blade, his mother adroitly slashes the top off my coconut while continuing to rock the hammock with her other hand. Its water provides me with enough fuel to keep going until we meet up with Tahir in Vanz. He is waiting in the van with a hotel friend and we climb in. Erico suddenly announces he has a craving for a “fine Western lunch”. He is hungry because he fasted through the 24-hour Monday rest day. Tahir drives us to a TGB Hotel restaurant on the other side of Surat and the city is so alarmingly different from the centre where we had been staying. I’d forgotten what affluent modern life looks like. This is a very luxurious hotel and restaurant and I’m overwhelmed arriving in my dusty pilgrim’s garb. I order a roast chicken dish but it is almost impossible to consume after weeks of eating lightly.
When we return to our hotel Tahir mentions that His Boss wants us to pay him a portion of our fare. Because we have not been handling money for the past month I had basically forgotten it existed. I realize I must start building up a cash reserve as there are daily and weekly limits to withdrawals. I’m ready to return to my room in Surat after one of the most strenuous days of walking. My head aches. I stuff earplugs in my ears to dull the noise of traffic and chanting monks outside my window, quite ready to leave Surat at 6am next morning.