| Life here |
[Sep. 23rd, 2006|05:29 am] |
Hello to all, I am now waiting on my private yoga teacher to breeze along. The fixed time is ten in the morning but I have found that Indian punctuality leaves a lot to be desired. Arranging a time is actually a pointless activity; be content with sorting out the day. This is not what I am used to so I suppose it will do me good.
My treatment here is purely oral and is on two distict levels. Firstly there is the herbal side. My doctor uses many herbs, dozens, from all over the ganges valley. These get dried and then ground up to a fine powder. This is then mixed with water and drunk. Some of them taste absolutely foul in the extreme - and these are the good ones.
Then there is the heavy duty stuff. These are called Bhasmas and consist of minerals and precious metals cooked, or burnt, sometimes many times over, to produce a fine ash. Bhasmas actually means 'ash'. This fine ash, depending upon what it was originally, can be very toxic but in the quantities it is taken it can be a very powerful medicine. A dose can be put on the head of a pin, then it is mixed with honey or ghee and taken.
I am still being largely confined to the flat. I have a whole flat to myself but I do share it. There is a resident lizard who lives in the hallway. I don't bother him and he doesn't bother me. He just gets on with his life's quest which appears to be to get the resident cricket who also lives in the hall. I have not seen him although I have heard him every damned evening. He is very smart in that he stops singing, or scraping or whatever crickets do, just as I am homing in on him using my ears. He seems to know when someone is listening, someone who is not another cricket that is, and so stops making his noise immediately .
The primary school next door has the capacity to drive one to drink. I am reminded of the old Oscar Wilde quote. When asked if he liked children he replied that he did but couldn't eat a whole one on his own. These little lighters arrive with their mothers looking as if butter wouldn't melt but, as soon as they get inside the noise level goes through the roof. The are taught in Bengali and there is one teacher in there who, even though I don't understand what she is saying, scares the bejeesuz out of me over here. She must terrify the kids. Mind you, even though, as I said, they work in Bengali I distinctly heard one heartfelt cry in English; 'Right you lot. Shut up now!' It was effective
I am still waiting for my yoga teacher. The house has been rather disturbed by the fact that the driver went AWOL last night. He got his Puja (holiday) bonus and, reding between the lines, went out on a bender. He did not return so Madame had to go to work this morning in a taxi. Oh, you just can't get the staff these days. Seriously though, the dear lady is on the point of retiring and is getting a rough ride. The last thing she needs is a personal driver AWOL. I suppose, to her, it is like trying to start the car and finding it has died in the night, just at the start of a long and difficult day. Not funny.
Anyway, I will stop now and try and find out how to post photographs. |
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