The Pyre of Yesterday - A Diary

As I embark on this my second trip to India, I have decided to keep a diary of my travels. The words that I record here are my attempt to capture the essence of each day before it is reduced to ash on the pyre of yesterday. And so I gather what remains illuminated in the dying embers, before it becomes mere dust. Sifting through hot ash with my bare hands, I bring forth what may come.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Farewell

 Friday, November 12th

Immediately after breakfast the taxi arrived that would be transporting Premal to Delhi.  I went out to see her off and reassert my promise to stay in touch.  it was another parting and this made me a little sad, but I did not allow myself to linger in morbidity.  I had my own trip to plan for and I had a lot to do before I set off next week.  This morning will be the last meeting of the workshop group.  I arrive and without preamble, we get straight into the session.  No tea and chatter this morning.    At the end of the session Harri calls me int the other room, as he intends to complete the treatment that he started last week. I know that it will be excruciatingly painful, and I brace myself.

Hari is not gentle, and he kneads and prods my left calf until I am again screaming in pain.  When it is over, he allows me to rest while he makes tea. We are alone in the apartment as everyone else has gone.  This gives us the opportunity to have another long talk.  We share our uncertainties about the future and I ask him if he thinks he will ever give up celibacy and marry one day.  The future is uncertain he says, and he cannot predict what he will not do.  He can only take charge of today, and do what is before him to do.  Answers are never simple with Hari.

When the throbbing in my leg has abated, I give Hari a hug of thanks and head back to the ashram to rest.   Although I am in pain, my legs feel surprising weightless.  I happily crash onto my bed and sleep. Maya is hosting a dance party on her roof tonight and I intend to be there.  I meet up with Hari and we are the first to arrive.  Before long the others have joined us, and we dance to hypnotic Sufi music on the roof of the temple where she lives. It is warm tonight and we dance barefoot on the concrete surface, until we are all exhausted.  It is late and approaching curfew, by the time I walk back with Hari and Yog and his girlfriend who live near by. 

It has been a good day and I go to bed feeling content. Even the howling dogs cannot disrupt my peace.

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