Wednesday, April 03, 2019

Cuckoo for Chikoo

Uma reminded me the other day about chikoo - a sweet, juicy, local fruit that looks like a kiwi crossed with a potato and tastes like a  chocolatey apple — only better.

So I asked for some when we went to the small village market on the way home from the ashram.

“Adha kilo chikoo,” I said. 

The small crowd that had gathered had a good laugh. One of them repeated my words, complete with thick Chicago accent. We all laughed again.

Then I learned it’s pronounced chiKOO, not CHIkoo.

However you say it, it makes a great breakfast salad with grapes and papaya.

Jai Guru

Tuesday, April 02, 2019

Big Day, Big City

Yesterday morning the ashram was blissfully quiet. After lunch we decided to go downtown to look for a harmonium for the guest house.  We ended up at Shri Kalyan Music Store, which has 11 rooms of instruments. We found a beautiful, full-size harmonium with a deep, resonant sound for 13,000 rupees (about $190).  Pranava also found a beautiful little red-and-black guitar.  Afterwards we waited and waited for the Uno (rideshare) driver to find us and then made our way back through rush-hour traffic to the guest house in air-conditioned comfort. 

The harmonium is wonderful, and sounds great in the meditation room (and makes it feel complete). This morning I chanted the Mahishasura Mardini Strotram, and tonight we did Ya Devi, the Maha Mantra, Shiva Shambo and more. Wow.

Jai Guru

* * * 

Shortly after arriving home with the harmonium and other instruments, Keval Kumar came to take me to revisit the doctor who saw me after my face-first middle-of-the-night crash. My nose still looks crooked, and I wanted him to have a second look. 

The first time I went to his office, which is on the other side of the city, it was Holi — a holiday — and it took about 30 minutes. This time there was major rush-hour traffic, *and* KK is a cautious driver (Vijay’s rickshaw is in the shop, so he sent Keval Kumar). The drive took about 40 minutes and took us straight through — and past — downtown. 

When I got to the office, it was packed with people waiting to be seen (last time it was empty) - people of all ages, shapes and sizes. Many of them were leaning with anticipation over the reception desk; the rest were seated on rows of benches. The TV was playing the previous day’s cricket match (I already knew that Chennai was going to beat the Rajasthan Royals — who wear beautiful pink uniforms).  I pushed my way to the reception desk and explained that I had an appointment. The assistant (all the assistants were young, good-looking men) looked at me blankly, so I showed him my WhatsApp communication with the doctor. He asked my name. I gave it to him and he wrote it on his appointment sheet. “Male or female?” He asked.  
Then “250 rupees” (less than $3.50) and “Have a seat.”

I found a spot next to a lady in traditional Rajasthani dress and spent the next hour watching cricket and the crowd come and go. Finally my name was called. 

The doctor did a quick exame of my nose, put some long metal rods up either side. “Septum is OK, nose is fine, no prescription and no treatment required.”

“Your nose is fine,” he said to me. “You are thinking about it too much. Stop thinking about it.”

Jai Guru