From Brahma to Buddha, Spring 2007

For their parts in the Ganga Trip project, Caitlin and Noah wrote two creative writing pieces focusing on the same thing: walking from the back of the boat to the front.

Caitlin described what she saw, and Noah described what he felt.

Together, the pieces paint the scene and move to the stern. Enjoy.
(Caitlin's will be up later today)

Here is Noah's:

How I feel walking across the boat.

As I contemplate how I am going to move from the back of the boat to the front, a small wave hits our side and we rock slightly to the left. I close my eyes and feel us tip back to center. Not often enough do I have the opportunity to contemplate buoyancy and balance.

I feel the constant shaking of the motor. How I adjust situationally always surprises me, ironically catching me consistently off guard. When the motor runs we live with it, all shaking together, our eyes following shaky words in books and our sunglasses like polarized magnets on our nose. When it turns off we forget about it quickly. We resume a normal vocal volume and gather our bags.

The front of the boat is covered in sun. It looks distant from where I sit in the shade. For the past couple of hours I have sat reading, guiltily not looking too intently at my surroundings. I watch my group mates sleeping and I think, “at least I am not sleeping.” I immediately regret thinking that, wondering out loud why I can not relax. It is hard for me to remember that there is no competition in traveling. No element of collection either. I decide that I want some sun, and fold the top corner of the page I was reading.

We stash our bags in the center of our boat. On either side, there are two long white wooden benchs, with a one forth inch cushion coving the top of them entirety. Two nights ago, our first night on the boat, I rapped this cushion around my arms to try to stay warm. Now, on my part of the bench, the cushion has fallen to the floor. I didn’t really care, but I would be lying if I did not mention that this cushion, and the state of its being, did not contribute to my decision to move to the front. Also, I was cold again.

I stand up. The metal hand built roof of the boat allows me to get up to about half of my full height before stooping over. As I turn to my head to face the front, feeling my feet follow, I notice Sarah. She is holding her knees looking out at the river. I think to myself that this would make a great picture. My camera is not accessible. I creak as I stretch, but not really.

I have never thought before about the split second it takes for me to feel ready to move. As I take steps towards my sunny destination, I consistently check and recheck my path, direction and objective. I step over the bags, books and people. The front of the boat is now moving beneath my feet.