Tea Time By Ganga Ma – 7 November 2008

I just finished the most delicious cup of masala chai, brewed over an open wood fire, in the dark at Swamiji’s kutir. I’m sitting on a grass mat in the dark, 25 feet up on a ledge overlooking the rushing rapids typing away on my laptop. The cool breeze is contrasting nicely with the warmth from the dying fire. The sound of the conch shell from the temple across the river echoed wistfully and now I’m hearing the clanging of the bells. I shot a video of the tea being brewed on the fire, hopefully I can upload it and link to it.

Swamiji and Ramu, his labourer, are inside the kutir working on attaching the door. The carpenter was supposed to have it ready at 2pm, but when we showed up at 5, he hadn’t even started installing the hardware. Much hilarity ensued. Well, it was hilarious from my perspective. Swamiji lost his temper for a bit and then assisted with the installation. We finally brought it back here at 6:30. On the way to the carpenter’’ shop, we had the best dal makhani and lassi I’ve ever had. We were deep in locals territory.

Ramu was supposed to leave at 5:30, but was patiently waiting for us out on the road when we arrived. He carried the door on his head over the rocky beach, along a narrow wall, in the sand, down steep, uneven stairs and up a short incline that I had to take on all fours. In the dark. There was one passage where I couldn’t walk the wall, it was too narrow. I froze. I managed to backtrack and find another way. The trail descended sharply toward the end, just before it reached the wide wall to walk on. The last thing I heard from Swamiji, who was ahead, lighting the way for Ramu, was Don’t go in the Ganga! Always the helpful one, Swamiji. Sheesh. I butt-slid down that section and still had to do some fancy footwork to transition to the wall. I’m very lucky I didn’t go in the Ganga! I think this is the hairiest thing I’ve done to date. I can’t imagine carrying a full sized exterior door on my head while doing it!

I kept bursting out in a full faced smile while navigating the terrain to get here in the dark with only a wee pen light Swamiji loaned me. I love this! I don’t know if it’s living on the edge and triumphing in the face of huge odds that does it for me or what, but I feel the most intense joy. It’s difficult and it’s primitive; my muscles and joints are very sore, but I feel so alive! I was wearing my fully loaded backpack with laptop and two books on my back and my fully loaded waist pack around my waist. My center of gravity was noticeably off. I felt even more unstable toward the end of the trek and when I took my backpack off, I noticed that the computer compartment had come unzipped somehow and the laptop was hanging out, only held in by it’s compartment strap. Thank goodness I latched it in, a lot of times I forget. I felt quickly for the power cord and transformer and thankfully there were still in there. Whew, that was lucky. I’m going to lock the two zipper pulls together next time. My laptop could have landed in the Ganga!

The crickets and other night insects are singing loudly. I love that about this part of India. Seattle nights are silent. Virginia nights are cacophonous, just like this. I miss the symphony. Sitting here beside the embers and hearing the water and insects, it reminds me a lot of weekends at Lake Chesdin when I was growing up. My siblings hated going there, but I loved it. If I’m right about living in India in past lives, then no wonder I adored it there. It feels just like this. It’s getting cold now and the embers are nearly dead. I think it’s time for me to start trekking back to my ashram. My curfew is in 90 minutes and I want to take it slow. If this gets posted, you’ll know I made it!