Mon. Feb. 1, 2010

Yesterday morning I went onto my perch to greet the bright, sunny day. I had just finished reading The Alchemist and was still steeped in the mystic. Aradhana came out, not noticing me behind the hanging sheets. I watched as she bowed to the sun, quietly said her prayers, circled three times, then offered saffron water to a tulsi plant from a small brass jar. I knew it was saffron water because I had watched her grinding saffron in a small stone mortar and pestle the night before, and she had explained it was for puja. She has done this every day of her life and will continue until she dies. As I watched her, I felt a part of the connection between these people and their God. I was somehow a participant, not an onlooker. I'm sure part of my reaction was the fact that a plant was involved. God has come to me clothed in green for many years. Tulsi is known to us as Holy Basil. I plan to take seeds from the plants here and try to grow it at home.
After bathing and dressing, I meandered back to the balcony to watch India pass by, when I noticed a monkey sitting on the railing of the balcony as it wrapped around the house. He was carefully peeling the skin from a tomato with his teeth, then eating the pulp. The rest of the family saw him about the same time and the Bunder Alert rang out and all doors were slammed shut. Indians take these animals very seriously, as well they should. They can do an immense amount of damage in a short time. Arun then got a very long stick and, while remaining inside the house, shooed him away. The bag of tomatoes inadvertently left on the porch was ruined. In the fracas, two tomatoes were thrown onto the roof of the neighbor's carport. The little devil will surely return for them.
We decided to go with Arun and Smita bahoo to land they bought 15 years ago with some money she somehow received after the death of her mother. It took us an hour to get there by auto rickshaw, getting more and more rural as we went. When we were last here, it was all open land. Now their land, about one third of an acre, was completely enclosed within a high brick wall. At the rear of the property was a small brick dwelling with a wide covered porch. This was the residence of two brothers and their families. They were caretakers of the property. It seems that if not protected, people will just move in and claim ownership. Aradhana said this sort of thing could take years to settle in the courts. There is also now a well on the property. Other than the small building, the entire area was trees or garden. It was just lovely, the way you'd picture rural India to be. The family had a cow and her calf, which they fed with straw mixed with greens from the very large garden. The cow gave two gallons of milk a day. Of course the two young women immediately brought us cups of water and snacks. They didn't understand why JP and I did not drink. They were very gracious showing us their home, which consisted of one inside room, another that was the bathroom, and their tiny kitchen in one corner of the open porch. Being in the tropics, life is mostly lived outdoors. The man was especially pleased at my intense interest in his garden and ditch system of watering. Dung patties were stacked under the forest of trees which covered half of the property, to be sold for fine quality wood. Dung patties are dried and used for fuel. There is no foul odor. The women commented how nice I looked in my Indian clothes, but asked why I had no bindi on my forehead, since I was a married woman. Darn, I thought the bangles were enough for me to pass.
Later that same night the whole family went to the Dasaswamedh Ghat at sunset for Gunga Aarti. This is the last puja of the day, putting the Ganges to bed. It is an unbelievably beautiful sight, which always brings tears to my eyes. Eight young Brahman priests stand of platforms spaning 300 feet high above the water's edge. In unison they perform the long ritual of offering the river lit oil lamps, incense and camphor, bells, chanting, drums, flower petals and feather fans. The ghat is mobbed with Indians and foreigners. There are also many people watching from large and small boats in the river. As I look down the river, I see a city of lights floating along. These are candles offered to the river, placed in small bowls made of leaves and surrounded by flowers. I am sure this is on U-tube. Probably under Ganga Aarti Varanasi. There is another beautiful Ganga Aarti in Rishikesh. I really hope we get there on this trip, but it all depends on JP's knees.
I thank all of you who have emailed me to say you are enjoying the blog. It encourages me to keep risking my life trying to take notes while dodging rickshaws, scooters, and bulls.

Peace,
Nadine