दिल

Waiting at the school gate today after my exam, I leaned against the red dusty brick of the archway and looked at the trees. I love seeing signs of the wind, cooling us on hot afternoons. Leaves rustling always makes the rest of the world feel still. I looked up, and thought of Yumi, who first taught me the importance of looking up. How often I forget! I hadn't consciously looked at the sky in a while, so it surprised me, arching over us all, so blue and vast and quiet. Eyes! Jake once told me that they were called far-reaching lassos of the water-lamp and I remember shivering at the beauty of the idea.

I wish I could describe the sky without describing it, without reducing it to an object. For that I would need to be a child again, sure that tipping off the edge of a mountain would mean landing in the soft wispy arms of the clouds, which would then dissolve sweetly on the tongue. I let my eyes soften, my vision expand, and feel my mind loosen correspondingly. I cannot remember all that I have been taught. A little boy walks past tossing grapes into his mouth. He misses and the grape rolls past my feet. We smile at each other. Not an ecstatic, crazed sense of unity, but something tender and simple, enough to feel part of things again.

This evening I attended a concert put on by a group of elderly singers in Pune. Gauri's father-in-law came onto the stage barefoot, led by the hand, for he is blind, and sang beautifully, his voice full of emotion. From sight to sound. The music made my eyes fill with tears. Fittingly, the only word I understood was 'dil.'

I feel at home, a calm perhaps partially induced by my licorice tea and the cool air circulating from the wooden fan. The daily rickshaw ride, the sweet tea, the vegetables I chose this evening on the street corner, the garlands of flowers colouring the streets, Varsha's smile, Huzaifa's company, the woman who stroked my cheek tonight, small moments of gratitude.

All I need is for my rose to bloom again. Which reminds me. Some of my classmates have taken to calling me gulabi, which means 'rosy.' In this heat, I don't think I can shake such a nickname. I have even come to like it.

Temples and Tourists

I climbed many steps this weekend to reach beautiful hill-top temples and watch the sun sink over red unearthly looking rocks and bright green fields of rice and sugar cane. The white walls reminded me of a picture I love of mum in Ladakh under the prayer flags. I felt as if she had seen this peaceful place, it is the kind of scene that I have imagined ever since I was little when she told me stories of her travels. I felt strangely reverent and could hardly speak, it was as though I had stepped into all kinds of pasts. I watched the white walls turn pink and I wondered if mum had also trembled at similar sights.

Night fell on our way down from the temple and we wandered in the dark, following what we hoped was a trail until we reached a field surrounded by ruins. Of course we made it back to town, but I half-expected to be spreading my scarf on the ground for us to sleep. 

Hampi has one of the most surreal and beautiful landscapes I have ever seen. We were told that the town is scheduled to be demolished and many of the buildings along the main street already looked more worn than the ruins that surrounded them. How strange it was to see tourists, and to really be one of them. It was so fun to wake up in the mornings and drink real coffee and a heaping fruit salad before the heat of the day set in, to look in the little book store and finger a silk scarf, to lie down for an hour to escape the heat, and eat Thali in rooftop restaurants, resting on cushions. Our first day in Hampi we visited the main temple and Mikael was blessed by an elephant. He jumped away in alarm when the trunk reached to touch his head, but the elephant was patient with him and tried again. I could have sworn the elephant was amused.  

A smiling elephant

We then walked down to the river and saw a woman getting her head shaved, men bathing in the water and a snake charmer. When he asked for money, I said that I would come back later. I do that a lot, avoiding the word 'no' at all costs, something I should work on. Two holy men who we met on the first day never forgot my promise, popping up everywhere with a not-so-holy smile and asking for fifty rupees. I finally paid them because I started to feel superstitious...they are supposed to be able to perform magic after all. I didn't want to take any chances. After I paid them, we laughed, mutually exasperatedly, every time we met on the street. Hampi is very small.

The air in the town was so fresh and the fields surrounding it so green, I had a hard time imagining returning to Pune, where a few days ago a machine outside of my house was churning out black smoke that hung heavily in the air for blocks around.

When we met a young Indian man with long hair camping out in one of the empty temples that overlooks the town I wished I could join him. My awe faded somewhat when he began to speak. He told us that he only ingests organic things, including the tobacco in his beedis, but when we offered him a cookie to go with the tea he had made us over a small fire, he took it eagerly despite our warning that it was replete with artificial flavours. I got the feeling he wasn't very good at rejecting earthly pleasures yet.

Our last day in Hampi, we took a tiny boat across the river and rented a motor-bike and drove to the Hanuman temple we had seen from the first hill-top temple we visited. I draped my scarf over my damp forehead and we walked up the winding white steps. We drove to the lake and disregarding a handwritten sign that said to beware of crocodiles, we went for a swim. I swam in all of my clothes because we had an audience. It felt so good after the heat of climbing the stairs and walking barefoot around the shadeless temple.

                                                 

I am back in Pune and I feel at home here. This evening I lit incense and swept the floors before making dinner with the spices Alice bought for me. How amazing to watch the mustard seeds pop! I think I may have gotten carried away with the novelty of having so many spices at my disposal, but the cinnamon and cloves tasted surprisingly good in the curry. The room smells delicious. I have hung scarves over the chairs and watered the rose. New soft green leaves are sprouting and it seems to be enjoying its spot in Eliza's room where the sun shines in every afternoon. All is well.

Kittens and a Trip to the Zoo

This evening as I was reading about the newspaper revolution in India I heard a strange sound coming from outside. Two tiny kittens were huddled in the corner of a box marked Pune in black marker. They were climbing on top of each other trying to keep warm or maybe in hopes of finding their mother. They must be only few days or a couple of weeks old because their eyes are still shut and their paws look almost translucent. I went to the store and bought milk. They don't seem to know how to drink it. Mikael came to over and suggested I bring them into the apartment for the night as they are so thin and it is cool here at night. The kittens are mewling in the kitchen now and every time I hear their cries my heart aches. I feel so helpless. I remember rescuing a bird when I was small and feeling its heart beat in my hands. We buried it in the garden. Let's hope that this story has a happier ending. Mikael just wrote to give me some advice. I will let them suck watery milk from a towel and warm them in my hands...his cat-expert friend also suggested I have them sleep on my stomach...we'll see.

What to do...(but really, any advice?)

This weekend Viviana and I put coconut oil in our hair and watched the sun rise on her beautiful terrace.
                                           

We ate fruit salad and sweets and I tried to ride with her on the back of a bicycle, but we tipped over, so she carried me instead. I seem to be the passenger a lot lately. In return I sang some of Dido's songs to her, "Stacey would Waltz" and "I'll be Loving You" and "We Three"...all the classics. The house where she lives is beautiful and she took such good care of me. It was lovely and just filled me up.  I spent the next night at Alice and John's, after a movie and a delicious dinner of cheddar cheese, salami, and tuna (none of which I had eaten in months). I guess I am rotating houses after all, to help ease the emptiness of the apartment now that Eliza is gone. Our rose seems to have taken it especially badly and I worry that I won't be able to revive her.

Yesterday was wonderful. Mikael and I went to the zoo! I think John may have said that it is impossible not to smile when you ride on the back of a motorbike and he is right. I even smiled during out minor mishap about five minutes in when a police-man pulled us over at a traffic light. He said that motorbikes weren't allowed to go over the bridge, which I now grudgingly admit might be an actual rule as retrospectively we both agreed that we hadn't seen any other motorbikes on the bridge. At first he told Mikael something about taking away his license, but soon he was on to the money. Six hundred rupees. Mikael said all the right things, apologizing profusely and saying that he was a student. I smiled and told him in what I hoped was a placating voice that we were heading to the zoo (which now that I think about it sounds like the most innocent activity we could possibly be venturing out to do...though a trip to a temple may have softened his heart still more). In the end we paid two hundred rupees and the police officer told me kindly to cover my head because the heat was intense. At all of the stop lights that followed I tried to look inconspicuous because really, we are the perfect targets. They can make up any excuse and we will have to pay. But luck was on our side, or maybe I am just underestimating the honesty of the police force here in Pune. We arrive at the zoo and paid the foreigner fee to enter. The animals were pretty sleepy, but it was so nice to just walk on the shady paths, so peaceful after the traffic and hot sun. The snake park had a funny sign that warned that teasing the snakes could result in a jail sentence of up to a year. The elephants were being given a bath and kind of obscured from view...as soon as we left, we saw an elephant only inches away from us on the road. I guess we don't really need to go to the zoo to see such sights here.

"Keep Watch on the Kids"...

We went for lunch at a mostly empty restaurant. The only other customers were doing some early afternoon drinking, but the food was good. I somehow ordered icecream when I meant to get the bill, but it was straightened out in the end. We went next door to get icecream and they had a chikoo flavour. Maracuya has now been replaced by chikoo as my favourite fruit icecream. I can't take a bit without exclaiming. It was too delicious to hold in, or maybe it was just another delicious day. We then went to Koregaon Park so that I could see some of the huge old houses and look with fascination at the entrance to the Osho Ashram. What goes on in there?! Then we went to see a movie. We ended the day with a nice plate of thali, a cup of butter milk (though I still can't stomach the salty, sour taste), and a mango lassi. What a day!

The kittens are mewling. I had better go tend them. I don't think I am ready to be a parent.