I've returned to the Holy Land to commence my studies.
Therefore, 'Epic Adventures in India' will have to wait until the next time I return to that enchanted and mystical land called 'India'.
namaste
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Spider
The other day I was sitting quietly with crossed legs . I wouldn't use the words 'meditating' as I have no idea what it means and I think the word has been abused horribly. I might say something like 'battling the onslaught of restlessness and throngs of thoughts' but that would make me appear feeble minded. Hence, I thereby coin the term - 'sitting quietly'.
But instead of this futile soliloquy on semantics I would like to write about what I set out to write about.
While sitting quietly, I had the pleasant feeling of my limbs going numb and losing body consciousness, when I felt something brushing against my right foot.
I decided the wisest course of action would be to remain absolutely still and slowly open my eyes to investigate.
Sure enough, there it was, a massive 10 inch bright green spider with acid trickling from it's ferocious fangs.
Oh come on... Don't exaggerate so wildly... If you're gonna exaggerate, do it subtly and tactfully!
Fair enough. It was a black spider with the circumference of a small apple. But it could have been extremely poisonous!!
I watched with growing horror as it made it's way under my pant to my shin. I shut my eyes and resolved to keep still and focus all my will and energy on the thought of him going away.
After what seemed like eons, he scuttled out.
If you tell me it's the power of 'meditation' that scared him off without biting me, I'd probably get upset and break into a silly soliloquy about Semantics and the abuse of spiritual terms in language.
But instead of this futile soliloquy on semantics I would like to write about what I set out to write about.
While sitting quietly, I had the pleasant feeling of my limbs going numb and losing body consciousness, when I felt something brushing against my right foot.
I decided the wisest course of action would be to remain absolutely still and slowly open my eyes to investigate.
Sure enough, there it was, a massive 10 inch bright green spider with acid trickling from it's ferocious fangs.
Oh come on... Don't exaggerate so wildly... If you're gonna exaggerate, do it subtly and tactfully!
Fair enough. It was a black spider with the circumference of a small apple. But it could have been extremely poisonous!!
I watched with growing horror as it made it's way under my pant to my shin. I shut my eyes and resolved to keep still and focus all my will and energy on the thought of him going away.
After what seemed like eons, he scuttled out.
If you tell me it's the power of 'meditation' that scared him off without biting me, I'd probably get upset and break into a silly soliloquy about Semantics and the abuse of spiritual terms in language.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Bumblebees
Even though I have two big windows in my cabin, I like to leave the door open.
The windows are covered with screens, thereby preventing the rampant insect life outside from entering my small domain.
The door is a different story.
About twice daily, a massive bumblebee stumbles into my room and makes a racket with it's buzzing.
At first, I didn't mind it. But then I noticed that even though the door is wide open, they would never find their way out and thus end up perishing in my cabin.
Albeit a fine opportunity for an entomologist to examine the creature up close, I decided that I will make a heartfelt attempt to save every single bumblebee that makes it's way to my abode.
The result if I may say so, is quite comical.
It involves me carrying a pot and it's cover chasing the bee wildly across the room.
Jumping on the bed and the dressers and always almost catching the thing when it flutters it's wings and escapes me. A risky endeavor you might think, but there's nothing this humble animal lover won't go for to save a life!
In the end, I manage to catch it in the pot, and with satisfaction I listen to the muffled buzzing for a few moments before setting it free outside.
The windows are covered with screens, thereby preventing the rampant insect life outside from entering my small domain.
The door is a different story.
About twice daily, a massive bumblebee stumbles into my room and makes a racket with it's buzzing.
At first, I didn't mind it. But then I noticed that even though the door is wide open, they would never find their way out and thus end up perishing in my cabin.
Albeit a fine opportunity for an entomologist to examine the creature up close, I decided that I will make a heartfelt attempt to save every single bumblebee that makes it's way to my abode.
The result if I may say so, is quite comical.
It involves me carrying a pot and it's cover chasing the bee wildly across the room.
Jumping on the bed and the dressers and always almost catching the thing when it flutters it's wings and escapes me. A risky endeavor you might think, but there's nothing this humble animal lover won't go for to save a life!
In the end, I manage to catch it in the pot, and with satisfaction I listen to the muffled buzzing for a few moments before setting it free outside.
The Nepali Worker
Aaaaaah .... Monsoon is finally coming to an end. The light rains signifying it's much anticipated death throes.
The estate owner being the avid horticulturist that he is, a myriad of flowers in various colors are starting to bloom.
They welcome me back every time I return from my Hindi lessons and I in turn pause to admire their exuberant colors and the perfect geometrical shapes adorning them.
The Professor who owns the estate has brought over a young Nepali to cut away all the weeds and unwanted vegetation. Quite a task if I might say so as these things grow ferociously - almost over night.
It was raining one day when I opened my cabin door and saw him (the Nepali) sitting on the path steps leading to my cabin. A laconic conversation in Hindi ensued:
Me: "Water?"
Him: "No."
Me: "Food?"
Him: "No."
The same thing happened the next day only this time he allowed me to serve him some water, cashews and two bananas.
He drank the water in one sip and then emitted a very deep animal like groan.
I don't know why he did it but I liked it.
This went on for a few days. No words exchanged, only consumable goods.
The other day he came over and timidly asked if I could give him some money.
I tried to inquire as to why he needs money but the only response I got was that a big bloke slapped him twice across the face the day before.
"I see..." I said. "How much do you need?" I asked. "5,000 rupees" he said.
I told him to forget it.
He stopped coming the next day.
The estate owner being the avid horticulturist that he is, a myriad of flowers in various colors are starting to bloom.
They welcome me back every time I return from my Hindi lessons and I in turn pause to admire their exuberant colors and the perfect geometrical shapes adorning them.
The Professor who owns the estate has brought over a young Nepali to cut away all the weeds and unwanted vegetation. Quite a task if I might say so as these things grow ferociously - almost over night.
It was raining one day when I opened my cabin door and saw him (the Nepali) sitting on the path steps leading to my cabin. A laconic conversation in Hindi ensued:
Me: "Water?"
Him: "No."
Me: "Food?"
Him: "No."
The same thing happened the next day only this time he allowed me to serve him some water, cashews and two bananas.
He drank the water in one sip and then emitted a very deep animal like groan.
I don't know why he did it but I liked it.
This went on for a few days. No words exchanged, only consumable goods.
The other day he came over and timidly asked if I could give him some money.
I tried to inquire as to why he needs money but the only response I got was that a big bloke slapped him twice across the face the day before.
"I see..." I said. "How much do you need?" I asked. "5,000 rupees" he said.
I told him to forget it.
He stopped coming the next day.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
The Old Leafy Lady
Today, as I was walking on the street that leads to the estate where my cozy little 'Swiss-Indian' mountain cabin resides, I was taken aback by the sight of an old wrinkled behind in front of me, belonging to an equally old woman.
She had her blouse lifted up all the way, and she wasn't wearing any underwear.
Apparently, she didn't notice me walking behind her, or maybe she did but she didn't care.
When I found out what she was doing, I was surprised and appalled - while walking along the road she was wiping her buttocks with a meaty green leaf.
Overcoming my initial repulsion, I decided I was actually quite pleased with her actions - who am I, with my Western 'Social Etiquettes' and 'Codes of Conduct' to forbid people from wiping their behinds with big green meaty leaves in public while walking?
I paused as she discarded the tainted leaf to watch it blow in the wind.
I noticed a small snail with an intricate swirling pattern on it's shell slowly crawling next to my foot.
I took a few pictures of it before going on.
She had her blouse lifted up all the way, and she wasn't wearing any underwear.
Apparently, she didn't notice me walking behind her, or maybe she did but she didn't care.
When I found out what she was doing, I was surprised and appalled - while walking along the road she was wiping her buttocks with a meaty green leaf.
Overcoming my initial repulsion, I decided I was actually quite pleased with her actions - who am I, with my Western 'Social Etiquettes' and 'Codes of Conduct' to forbid people from wiping their behinds with big green meaty leaves in public while walking?
I paused as she discarded the tainted leaf to watch it blow in the wind.
I noticed a small snail with an intricate swirling pattern on it's shell slowly crawling next to my foot.
I took a few pictures of it before going on.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Busy
Hey, I've been very busy lately and haven't managed to find a time for writing.
For all of you who have been checking my blog occasionally, I will write a mass email as soon as there's a new post.
For all of you who have been checking my blog occasionally, I will write a mass email as soon as there's a new post.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Hassan The Painter
Hassan ensconced himself snuggly in a comfortable chair on his porch, wrapping a light woolen blanket around him. For someone who has never been to Kodaikanal the vastness and awe of the view in front of Hassan would be hard to comprehend.
This was the chosen Hill Station in the South of India for young honey-mooning couples, and travelers.
The view comprised of lush green trees, the fairy-tale kind that can only exist in altitudes of over 1,800 meters.
The air was misty, which gave a dreamy quality to the panoramic scenery. The hills and valleys descended and ascended around each-other as if part of some heavenly play.
This was where he wanted to be. This was his chosen place; after all, he was an aspiring painter.
Another reason for the immense inspiration he was experiencing at the time, apart from the view of course, was the architectonic joint dangling between the index and middle fingers of his left hand.
Surely a painter in India would not refuse the exuberant boost Manali charas offers to one's creativity.
So thus, absorbed in his art making, pausing occasionally to reflect on what he's done so far and take sagely long puffs from his perfect cone-shaped joint, he did not hear the footsteps. Didn't notice the coming of another presence into his tiny universe.
This unwanted guest made his way up the stairs and placed himself between Hassan and the object of his painting.
This was a cop. A police officer. The kind that's robust and extremely muscular. The kind that doesn't mess around, doesn't stand the breaking of laws, and with a personal zeal and fervor, makes sure they are obeyed, and if not, that the perpetrators are punished.
It took hassan a few moments to notice this door of a man, with his sumptuous mustaches, curving almost as much as the hills and the valleys.
"Oh shit!" - He couldn't help from blurting it out.
"What are you doing?" Admonished the officer in a harsh voice.
There was an unpleasant pause there. A lull in which four eyes locked in on each other and wouldn't let go.
Hassan's gaze was one of compassion, of naiveness.
The officer's gaze was one of 'take no nonsense'.
"SMOKING DRUGS NOT ALLOWED!" The officer broke the silence.
Another lull. Another uncomfortable pause.
"I'm a painter!" Spoke hassan suddenly with new found fervor, while turning the canvas around for the officer to see.
The officer stood there with a perplexed expression on his face. His eyes moving between Hassan's eyes, and the canvas, turning around once to admire the view, as if the view could reaffirm Hassan's story.
Another uncomfortable silence. Hassan on the edge of of his seat, not so much ensconced now, the light woolen blanket half on his right knee and half on the ground - fell down after Hassan was startled by this unwanted guest.
Slowly it was coming. There it was, a light quiver in the right mustache, the left one joining in, and there, in it's full glory, a smile! A genuine smile!
"Oooooooooh!" Said the officer.
"Painter!" Pointing at Hassan.
"Yes yes!" Hassan replying gingerly, pointing at himself.
"Painter! Painter!" Continued Hassan, reassuring the officer.
The officer's smile waning a bit, his eyes moving to the joint, then to Hassan's face, and then the officer's face lighting again.
"Painter!" Said the officer with his eyes and big index finger moving between the joint and the canvas.
"Yes yes!" Hassan was on top of himself now. "Inspiration!!" Mustering all the seriousness he could muster.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" The officer furiously nodding.
"Inspiration!" Still furiously nodding.
And then, with a wink that made his left moustache rise a bit, the officer left.
*Based on a true story
This was the chosen Hill Station in the South of India for young honey-mooning couples, and travelers.
The view comprised of lush green trees, the fairy-tale kind that can only exist in altitudes of over 1,800 meters.
The air was misty, which gave a dreamy quality to the panoramic scenery. The hills and valleys descended and ascended around each-other as if part of some heavenly play.
This was where he wanted to be. This was his chosen place; after all, he was an aspiring painter.
Another reason for the immense inspiration he was experiencing at the time, apart from the view of course, was the architectonic joint dangling between the index and middle fingers of his left hand.
Surely a painter in India would not refuse the exuberant boost Manali charas offers to one's creativity.
So thus, absorbed in his art making, pausing occasionally to reflect on what he's done so far and take sagely long puffs from his perfect cone-shaped joint, he did not hear the footsteps. Didn't notice the coming of another presence into his tiny universe.
This unwanted guest made his way up the stairs and placed himself between Hassan and the object of his painting.
This was a cop. A police officer. The kind that's robust and extremely muscular. The kind that doesn't mess around, doesn't stand the breaking of laws, and with a personal zeal and fervor, makes sure they are obeyed, and if not, that the perpetrators are punished.
It took hassan a few moments to notice this door of a man, with his sumptuous mustaches, curving almost as much as the hills and the valleys.
"Oh shit!" - He couldn't help from blurting it out.
"What are you doing?" Admonished the officer in a harsh voice.
There was an unpleasant pause there. A lull in which four eyes locked in on each other and wouldn't let go.
Hassan's gaze was one of compassion, of naiveness.
The officer's gaze was one of 'take no nonsense'.
"SMOKING DRUGS NOT ALLOWED!" The officer broke the silence.
Another lull. Another uncomfortable pause.
"I'm a painter!" Spoke hassan suddenly with new found fervor, while turning the canvas around for the officer to see.
The officer stood there with a perplexed expression on his face. His eyes moving between Hassan's eyes, and the canvas, turning around once to admire the view, as if the view could reaffirm Hassan's story.
Another uncomfortable silence. Hassan on the edge of of his seat, not so much ensconced now, the light woolen blanket half on his right knee and half on the ground - fell down after Hassan was startled by this unwanted guest.
Slowly it was coming. There it was, a light quiver in the right mustache, the left one joining in, and there, in it's full glory, a smile! A genuine smile!
"Oooooooooh!" Said the officer.
"Painter!" Pointing at Hassan.
"Yes yes!" Hassan replying gingerly, pointing at himself.
"Painter! Painter!" Continued Hassan, reassuring the officer.
The officer's smile waning a bit, his eyes moving to the joint, then to Hassan's face, and then the officer's face lighting again.
"Painter!" Said the officer with his eyes and big index finger moving between the joint and the canvas.
"Yes yes!" Hassan was on top of himself now. "Inspiration!!" Mustering all the seriousness he could muster.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" The officer furiously nodding.
"Inspiration!" Still furiously nodding.
And then, with a wink that made his left moustache rise a bit, the officer left.
*Based on a true story
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