whereof, thereof.

So.(!)

It’s difficult even to begin writing about this experience, because it’s so far afield from what i had been used to that i don’t even really feel qualified to discuss it. this is someone else’s trip, i’ve just got a front row seat. 

Every day is beautiful and strange. Yesterday, i was invited to bribe a monk at the big temple in order that i could take part in the puja ritual of bathing the pathala lingham with milk and water, dressing it in cloth and flowers, and tossing petals at it while reciting sanskrit verses. a bargain at $5. he locked the big iron grille behind us as we descended the 5 steps to the dark ritual cellar. it was all very dreamlike and mythic and shifty. afterwards, he made me promise that i would bring him a U.S. mobile phone by the first of next year.

the food is incredible. i do not know any of its names but this presents no obstacle because when you sit down at the restaurant, a banana leaf is placed in front of you and heaps and heaps of food are piled upon it, whatever they happen to have made that day. one mixes and eats everything with one’s hand. the street carts overflow with fruits that are strange and familiar at the same time; their apples and our apples look the same, but taste nothing alike; their bananas are tiny and squat and strangely crisp. their pears are gigantic. i think this is how fruit is supposed to be.

my little room above the computer shop at 72/1 big street is small and windowless and honest. it has been much improved by the purchase of a mattress and a mosquito net. unlocking and locking my little padlock gives me a thrill each time, a little burst of belonging in a very foreign place. the ceiling fan (all ceiling fans here) have as much horsepower as the van does. the shower is cold and refreshing. the toilet, after some good old fashioned tinkering, demonstrates the semblance of a flush.

my neighbors have become used to my presence and are beginning to smile with fewer dollar signs in their eyes. my little old tea-stand lady and i have a little flirty thing going on. the swami whom i met at the temple and who helped me secure my apartment at the local’s price of $40 per month feeds me occasionally, and takes me with him on trips to country homes where he’s been asked to perform rituals, and gives me cred with the locals.  hillariously though, it turns out that he also wants a piece of my ass real bad, so i have been careful not to take him up on too many invitations. 

as for the spiritual side, it is not something i think i will ever write about, because it is not writeaboutable. i am satisfied on its account. i could come home at any moment.

when i got on the plane to dehli, i did not intend on coming back. I thought that i would either give up everything to live in a cave, or fall into a group of like-minded expatriots and spend my days leisurely drinking tea and having lush tropical outdoor sex. turns out, the cave was a symbol for another kind of renunciation entirely, and there are no such expatriots in evidence. indeed, everyone i’ve run into who speaks english is here only for a short time to fulfill a spiritual need and has no interest in making friends. this is a standpoint i completely understand, but had not planned for. so i do not know how long i will end up staying here. I dig on solitude, but i miss meaningful communication already, and it’s only been 2 weeks. 

but the future as always is a dark and inscrutable summabitch, so i’m trying to let it take care of itself. in the meanwhile, i’m climbing mountains every day, and being surrounded by curious tamil boys every time i draw anything in my book, and smiling at the world and wearing robes and dhotis and taking tuk-tuk trips to nowhere. i love and miss you all, and i’ll see you sooner than i think.