A journey

'In India a single white female fool and her money are soon parted. After the hardest hard sell I have ever experienced, I found myself in receipt of eight train tickets, five hotel vouchers and my trip around India planned for the next three weeks. All at a cost of... well, lets say I paid more than I should have to a travel agent I should not have gone to.

So, as dawn broke over the mild din of early morning Delhi, I headed to the train station to start my journey to Amritsar in a state of gloom and self-pity, musing on my colossal stupidity for a third-timer in India.

While most people would be delighted to discover they'd been booked into a 1st class, air-conditioned carriage, I was not. 'Real India' does not travel 1st class. The colour, sights, sounds and most definitely smells of Indian life travel in cheaper classes, whereas 1st class is for the elite, wealthy 'normal' people. This was not what I'd come to experience.

Resigned to a six-hour journey of cosseted boredom, sitting with men in suits, I took my seat. A few minutes later, my fears were confirmed as a young Indian and his Australian colleague came into my carriage. It seemed that one was seated next to me and one on the other side of the aisle. With the selfishness of the lone traveller, desperate for company, I stayed put, hoping the Australian would be seated next to me, so we could at least compare Indian experiences. Then - I don't know why - I heard myself asking if they were travelling together. When they said they were, I asked, 'Would you like to sit together?' They thanked me and I moved across the aisle.

I could have cried! I was now sitting next to a businessman par excellence. An older Indian gentleman, with a balding head, neat glasses and a crisp blue shirt and black trousers. He had a severe look of concentration on his face. His headphones were plugged into his iPad and he was reading the financial newspapers on it. My heart sank. There was going to be no fascinating interaction or even conversation here.

I tried to read my book but couldn't concentrate. As tears of silent frustration and loneliness prickled my eyes, the tea trolley came through. As the hostess laid out the cups, Businessman unplugged himself from his iPad. For a few moments I toyed with my sugar and teaspoon before, in sheer desperation, I plucked up the courage to start up a conversation.

'Are you travelling to Amritsar?' I asked mindlessly.
'No, to Ludhiana,' he replied. Nothing more.
'Is it a business trip?' I blundered on.
'Yes.' Nothing more.

This conversation was going nowhere. After prising out of him that he was an engineer, selling machinery to the textile industry, I almost ran dry. I knew of nothing to ask on that subject. Then it came to me: family! People always open up about family. So I asked him about his. Amazingly this also produced nothing. Yes, had a family; yes, they were in Delhi. Nothing more.

Out of politeness he asked me a few questions. Where was I travelling in India? How long was I staying etc? Then he asked me a very odd question: 'What are you looking for?'

I was a little surprised and, not wanting to come across the hippie, dippy traveller come to discover herself I replied airily, 'Oh, you know, see lots of places, meet people, see the country.'

He was silent.

This was true. A friend of mine who also loves India, always says it's such a spiritual place, but for me, sadly it hasn't really felt that way. The best way I can describe it is to say I feel at home and comfortable here. So if that is a spirituality of some kind, then that is my spirituality.

'Amritsar is a holy place,' he said finally, 'and everyone of every  religion - Christian, Hindu or Sikh - is ultimately looking for one thing: to become one with God.'
'Of course,' I replied politely, surprised at this sudden turn in the conversation. 'What religion are you?'
'Hindu. And Hindus believe that every action you take has a result in this life or the next and that to be content with your life and let God do the rest, is what will bring you to be one with Him.'

Then, with no further prompting from me, he began to explain the Hindu philosophy. As he did, an extraordinary thing happened. His stern face lit up, like that of a mother talking about her newborn child. His tense look relaxed and became soft, his eyes shone and his face and hands became more and more animated. I had found his passion! I believe everyone has something they are passionate about and Hinduism was his thing.

He talked for about two hours, while I listened, fascinated and bound by what he said, as much by the passion and faith of his personality, as with the words themselves. I wish I could remember everything he said on that journey, but there was so much. Yet the simplicity of the Hindu tenets all made sense. The main points that stuck with me were:

1. Every one of your actions has a result, so you must think and act to achieve a good result and leave the rest to God.
2. To become closer to God and be one with him you should learn to control three things: Anger, pride and desire.
3. To be one with God is very difficult, so you will need a teacher - a guru. This guru is an enlightened person who is at one with God and can teach you how to get closer to Him. He/she isn't necessarily a holy person, just one at peace with themselves.

As he talked, I mentally applied these principles to myself, my life and my actions and found that they resonated with me very strongly and that I could learn a lot from them.

I had changed seats on the train, even though I didn't want to, because I thought it was the right thing to do. This simple action had resulted in me sitting next to and talking to an amazing man, whose deep love of God and his religion was hidden behind the worldly face of a simple businessman on a train. The feared loneliness of my journey had been transformed by the choice I had made and this chance conversation that had taught me so much.

I had also succumbed to pride, moping about having been duped into buying an expensive tour. My pride told me I was an expert on India and when I fell for this overpriced train journey, it had taken a beating. I was angry at myself for falling for it and I was definitely angry with the travel agents who'd sold it to me, as I made very clear at the time! Businessman nodded wisely when I told him my thoughts.

'But you have done this action now, and you must accept the result and leave the resat to God, because you can't change it.' How right he was!

To me, the third point was obvious. I knew nothing of Hinduism and Businessman knew it, believed it and loved it so much. His unshakable belief gave him the urge to communicate his knowledge to me - a complete stranger - with no hint of awkwardness or embarrassment. His passion and faith made me listen to something I needed to hear. And it had taught me a valuable lesson about how to look at and live my daily life in a different way. He was my guru.

He laughed when I told him this. 'I am not a guru, but if I can pass on to you a spiritual knowledge, this will stay with you in this life and the ones to come. This is my guru.'

With this, he took out his iPad again and showed me the screen. On it was an image of a middle-aged man in a saffron turban. His Hindu guru. He was like a proud father showing me a photo of one of his children.

'He was a great man,' he said. His face shone with so much love!

The locket with a curl of hair from a long-lost love, the crumpled wedding photo in a wallet - these are no longer the place we keep those dear to us. Now, we capture their presence in an image on a mobile, laptop or iPad. The electronic connection through which we communicate with that person is still overlaid with the emotion that can only be achieved with a photo. Businessman's loved one was his guru.

'I'll tell you a story of my own,' he said. 'Once, I was on the waiting list for a ticket on a particular train (this happens a lot in India) and I came to the station early to wait and see if my name was on the ticket list. I sat down next to a man sleeping on a bench. It was a cold morning, so I took off my jacket and covered the man with it. When he woke up he was surprised to find himself covered in someone else's jacket. I told him the jacket was mine and he gave it back.

'I thought he was just another passenger waiting also, but he turned out to be the train manager of the very train I was there to catch. Because of what I had done, he instantly put me on the ticket list.'

He said this with no hint of pride, just acceptance that this had been a situation he'd left in God's hands. I was thrilled! Both of our experiences proved that doing a good action will lead to a good result sooner or later.

When his stop arrived, as he left, Businessman turned and said, 'Enjoy the rest of your journey and God bless you.' He already had. As he left the train I realised I didn't even know his name.