Just an hour ago I was finished with dinner and saying good bye to a friend and walking past a temple I want to visit tomorrow, hoping they were open tonight so I could find out their timings for in the morning, but they weren't. As I walked down Contour Road I saw little shops with sign all written in Kannada, the local language, and many with signs also written in the roman alphabet but not necessarily in English. All of them that were open have either idols or pictures of the gods they worship. Many of the men and women were chatting across to the next shop, also many were walking on the street and laughing, enjoying the fact it was dusk and the with the sun going down the temperature was cooling off.
Then I looked up and saw them. Each night at dusk the large fruit bats come from the direction of Chamundi Hill. They either live in caves in the hills themselves or in the forest around the hills and come into the city at night to eat the fruit in the trees. Then I noticed the little bats flying around the low trees, eating the mosquitoes.
A little further up I walked past the coconut stand that I frequent almost daily and the man we so lovingly call Van Dosa, because he parks in the field across from the coconut his van, and opens up the back doors and makes dosa out of it. The rickshaw drivers sitting across the street from him chatting because they have a lot less business lately since many of us have discovered Uber and Jugnoo, a rickshaw app like Uber that actually charges the correct fees, not the bloated prices the local drivers, who are used to thinking the Western students have too much money and can afford it, are charging.
Amidst all of this is me, and many, many others out walking for the evening. The Ganesh temple I visit almost every morning is full and people are praying vigilantly. The young men on their motorbikes riding around, or sitting on them chatting.
It's a scene I've grown accustomed to. It's a scene I have been a part of for the last four months, and if you go back to February of 2014 and count I've been here for a total of 8 months since then. It's a familiar scene and one that feels like, dare I say home? Yes, I dare say it. This place, not just Mysore, but India as a whole, even though its varies so much from area to area, town to town and village to village, has become my home. I love it here. I will live here in some fashion for possibly the rest of my life.
Now I'm writing all of this because when I first saw the bats it dawned on me that in a week I won't be seeing this anymore. I won't even be able to. It will be on the other side of the planet from where I will be then. And that though made me sad, and I teared up a bit. I didn't cry fully though. Because here you're never really sad, the emotion is there on the surface and yet you feel this contentment and love deep within, beneath that and you know that's how you really feel. The other is just the temporary, in the moment, way you feel.
I am happy and at peace. I love the multiple Gods being worshipped here all day long. I love the devotion I see and feel in the people as they come in the temple and pray from their heart to Ganesh or to Shiva or Hanuman. I especially love when they see me, this tall white man, coming in with a red dot on my forehead and think for a second maybe I'm in the wrong place, but then embrace that I too can be full of devotion like them and enjoy visiting these strong energetic places of prayer that are used daily, and where no judgment is passed on you if you didn't come one day, or if you didn't bring an rupees to put in the brass plate before taking the flame to your eyes for clarity of vision, to your forehead for clarity of though and to your crown for clarity in your connection to the version of God you choose to worship.
I love that head wobble that everyone here has as an innate part of their body language and some use it so much more than others. I love the way they try to speak English and are so happy and proud that they got their message across to you once you've understood what they were saying. I really especially love that the tiniest little Hanuman temple has disco lights and he's made out of what is likely a paper mache product and yet has a huge crown made out of real diamonds and rubies and they give you greasy vadas for prasad and the priests are all portly and yet so happy you've come. The one yesterday was a fellow I'd not seen before, older with a full head of the whitest hair asking "Where from?" and so happy that I was from the US, Katie and Rachel from Canada and Rami from Argentina, he gave us extra special blessings and held the biggest smile as he watched us circumambulate the temple and tuck the flowers behind my right ear (maybe surprised I knew to do that), and that we knew all the right things to do during parts of the ceremony.
There is so much more that I love and want to express but can't right now, I've got to end this so I don't have that surface sad come back again. But know that this place has been in my heart since I saw that yogi on That's Incredible tv show in the 80's curl up into a tiny pretzel and get into that clear box as we watched and stayed in there the whole show.
That's why I believe in reincarnation, how else could I be so drawn to everything from this country from yoga to the food, from the clothing to the Sanskrit mantras, and so much more. It all is there already, I knew it when I heard and knew that I knew it from some time before. It's in my being, and it will be in my being until I leave this body and maybe beyond that as well.
India I am in you now for just a few more days, but know that you are in me forever, always have been and always will be.
I'll see you again very soon...
1 comment:
Lovely
Post a Comment