A modern-day Jesus of India’s wild west

DSCF5060 - Version 3Taken of my friend with whom I rode camels around the Thar desert for five days, slept under the stars, and got caught in storms and sandstorms so vicious I had to be rushed to a local village woman, by a young boy on his motorbike, to remove the pieces of grit in my eye, with tweezers, that had made me feel as if I was slowly losing my sight throughout the night.

I couldn’t open my eyes, as they were too painful and sensitive to the beating sun, as I sat cross-legged outside her house, but in my mind I was in the middle of a beautiful scene of smiling children running in circles around us as she twisted my eyelids further and further up to exact more stubborn rubble from within.

I would love to conclude that this local and ancient method of restoring vision sufficed, however, and unfortunately, that was not the case.

We reluctantly proceeded to the bustling hospital, our arrival whereupon I was ushered into a very open room, flipped over and stabbed twice in the bum, once on each side, with sharp injections of painkiller.

I was told that someone had been throwing rocks in my eyes, advised to avoid that, and sent off with an extensive shopping list for eye-drops, tablets and medicines.

The pain waned, sight did eventually and thankfully return, and I retreated once again to the desert.

© Gabriella Zoe Harris. All rights reserved.

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