Monday 31st December

Monday 31^st December

It is the last day of 2012 and I think it has been a very good year and that 2013 will be even better.

For one thing, the world did not end.  In fact, I read a tweet recently which said, succinctly:

Worst apocalypse ever

Indeed…

I am hoping to have a quiet and peaceful New Years Eve but…the best laid plans…So I will see what the evening brings, and I will wish everyone, far and wide, a very VERY happy new year.

India #57

There was an elderly woman staying at the Buddha Hotel, very eccentric, dressed entirely as an Indian woman would.  By elderly I mean older than us… But probably much more sprightly than us; I think she was acclimatised and not in as much need as rests from the frenzy of Varanasi.  She, Usha, is an American woman, originally from Poland/Germany, still with a strong accent.  In her past life she had been an airhostess, and then an academic and teacher of Linguistics at US universities.  Now she is studying Sanskrit at the University of Varanasi.  There is a lot of work available to people fluent in Sanskrit, translating into German and English, but her main reason for her studies is religious.  She was a fascinating woman, with a very strong message to impart, about God, the unity of the world, the oneness of all religions.  We (mostly) found her extremely interesting, but at mealtimes Pete would show the whites of his eyes and say, “Oh God!  Please don’t encourage her and don’t invite her to sit at our table!  She does NOT stop talking and I have got the message already!  Enough is enough!”  He was actually right; she was a nice woman, intelligent, articulate, and interesting, but rather too forceful and didactic to make a relaxing companion, and we needed to relax; we all found Varanasi very challenging without having to listen to long lectures, with 5-page A4 handouts, closely printed – on the meaning of Om while we were eating our aloo gobi.

Usha invited us to a kirtan from 8-10.30.  I knew what was in store; I quite like this sort of thing.  Pete and Vish were a bit suspicious; Mary was happy, she too likes this sort of thing.  After dinner we all gathered in a spare room with a smattering of people, mostly intelligent, serious young Indian women, and a few workmen fresh from the construction site (the Buddha Hotel was being extended around our ears.)  Usha gave us an impassioned talk about God and Om and the oneness of all beings, then she handed out little musical instruments and put on some tapes.  Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Hare Hare.  That sort of thing.  We sat around and banged our little bells on our knees, or rattled them in the air; it was all very pleasant.  Pete sat there very thoughtfully tinkling his little bells.  I could see a faraway look in his eyes and I knew it would not be long before he made his escape.  Vish was sitting – tinkle tinkle – looking very spiritual, and I thought, hmmm, he’s enjoying this, he will stay with Mary and me.  But no…about thirty seconds after the defection of Pete Headlam, off sloped Vish Sharma.  They more than likely went up to drink the last of the Kingfisher in our room, warm though it would have been by then.  Mary and I stayed till the end, chanting and singing and banging our bells companionably on our knees until there was only Usha, me, and an ardent young builder’s labourer left in the room.  A very nice evening.

I forgot to mention the weirdo Germans.  There was a whole tableful of them at the Buddha, all men, on some sort of religious mission, with a guru.  They wore beads, and different coloured costumes – some days robes, other days trousers and tunics.  They were not friendly types so we never managed to find out exactly what they were doing in Varanasi.  Usha had invited them to the kirtan and they came clomping in about half an hour into the proceedings.  They were an uneasy presence; something about them was discordant, we were all very happy when they clomped out – they were very noisy people, in spite of their ostensible spirituality.  Vish and Pete, although they really weren’t enjoying anything about the kirtan, were a much more benign and easy presence in the room.