thanks Universe!

i am running along the side of the road, barefoot, into the setting sun.   it has gone 17:10.    i am barefoot because i left the flip flops in the bicycle basket.    the smooth tarmac is warm to my skin which goes slap slap slap on the road.  sometimes i move over to the sandy verge when a big car comes up behind me going beep beep!
i am running because my bike was stolen earlier on today.   a busy street in pondicherry.   a thirty second lapse of attention in an ATM machine.
there are people who steal things.
i am running because community leaders at sadhana say it is unsafe to be out after dark, especially alone, so i am running to beat the clock.  i want to gain the sandy forest track before the sun has sunk too far beyond the horizon, taking it's light.  i met with couchsurfer emmanuel and when i told him about sadhana forest he was very interested in getting to know.  i said "well i am walking back there anyway" so he said "let's go!"  but in the end we got distracted by drinking iced mint tea in a roadside cafe and when it became apparent that the darkness was coming and there was still something like 10 kilometres to go, emmanuel walked back and i ran on.  emmanuel's couchsurfing profile states that he is 109 years old, so when in conversation he reveals that he is 24 years old, i say "i thought you were 109..." he smiles and says "yes...i wrote that to show how unimportant age is....all ages are the same.  how can i say i am twenty-four when i have already lived so many lives?"     i am running, the sun is setting then a man pulls in front of me with his moped and invites me to take a seat.  his only words comprehended by me are "only tamil", said with a smile.   after a while i give him a gesture which says i can walk but he insists on taking me beyond his turning for a further five kilometres, along the sandy track to sadhana forest, and leaves me there and repeats his smile and says "only help"
there are people who go spontaneously out of their way to help.  there are people who steal things but you cannot say "do not trust anybody" or else you would miss the kind people.

aviram, the rotund, bearded, gentle-eyed israeli who founded sadhana forest nine years ago, hears how the bicycle got stolen and asks me not to feel obliged to buy a new one and when i tell him that i would like to replace it anyway, he gives me a look full of kindness and says "thank you for your integrity".  it feels good when he says that.  i like aviram a lot.  he reminds me somewhat of l'homme qui plantait des arbres, only instead of planting trees in solitude, aviram invites a great transient traveller community to surround and make possible the project.  the US volunteers made a big meal for thanksgiving and while eating we went round in a circle and everyone said something they were thankful for.  it lasted the whole scrumptious dinner.  i said something short, i said "i would like to thank aviram and his family for creating this space to allow us all to come together, and i thank God for all of our hearts which  beat   so well"  many others became very eloquent and gave off great reels of thanks, often starting with "i wanna thank my mom for giving me life...".   at every meal, when everyone has been served, the person who is nearest the bells says "can we have a moment of silence please?" and everyone responds "yes!" then the chimey disks are made to give a high resounding chime and after a while, after a while, after a while, when they chime again, everyone chants out "thank you!" and aleric's midlands falsetto can always be heard chiming "thanks Universe!"

sadhana forest

the time is 2:51  in reality there are not many hours in the day.   in fact there are many of them.    hours filled with new activities, forest activities, living in the forest and replanting the forest.   i was full of experiencing the experience of being in india, learning to walk confidently along the street with my rucksack, not paying any attention to to the curious indian eyes, the reason is perhaps is because i am so tall, some sweetlime juice sellers admitted to me, learning to always ask price of things before engaging in anything involving handing over money, otherwise risking getting really 'fleeced', in the words of my chennai couchsurfer.  sweetlime juice could be twenty five rupees at the station or it could be 40 rupees at a swankier shop in pondycherry.       pondycherry a swankier place generally and they know how to cater for tourists.   it is 3:03   i am borrowing stewart's laptop but don't want to end up hogging it stewart from california just walked past eating a banana.  maybe he wants to use his laptop again.  i will write a couple of words first.  i am at sadhana forest reforestation project   an ecovillage.  i thought it would be similar to the other wwoof placements i had so far known, but in fact it is like nothing i had known.  i say i was full of the experience of being in india, but now i have entered some international place in the forest.  there are about thirty long-term community members and at the moment about forty or so short term volunteers.  minimum stay is two weeks.  the first day i walked in everyone was at work at their morning chores, they gave me big smiles, said 'have you just arrived? what's your name?'  there is such an aura of peace and calm here in the way that people interact.  it is quite a remarkable project they have set up.   one meta aim is to reforest the poor straggly existing land consisting of voracious nonnative species, dry runnels of spiny earth on account of the cyclones which sweep through periodically and cause erosion.  to achieve this aim a lot of time is spent building little mounded walls of earth to stem the flow of water off the land.   after these efforts, they say that the water table has risen six metres.  another aim is simply to live in community, sensitively.  i have never lived in such a sensitive way with so many other people.  we are not on the grid we have some solar panels which provide for our scant electricity needs.  all toilets are severely eco, no toilet paper is even encouraged.  all the human waste falls into big tubs which when full are left for months to hibernate and then go back to nourish the growth of the newly planted treelings.  the big huts are immense, beautifully architechted, requiring nothing but some stone plinths at base, then many logs and palm fronds and straw for the roofing, with gaps to let in plenty of light and allow the air to flow.  everyone gathers there to eat meals in a circle, it takes time to serve everyone up, it takes three hours to prepare in the morning.  we are encouraged (it is a community Rule) not to smoke, or drink alcohol, or take any mind altering chemicals, including coffee and tea.  they say their goal is to increase consciousness not dilute it.  we eat no packaged processed food.  we eat strictly vegan, but nothing is lacking, everything prepared is very diverse and satisfying and moreish, plenty of fresh fruit - papaya and pineapple for breakfast and bananas can be eaten throughout the day.  we wake up in the morning to the singing voices of the early morning group who play the ukilaylee and sing german songs, then we all stand in a circle and sing morning thankful for the new day songs and give each other hugs (not everyone actually, some others are still getting up)  then we carry all the crow bars and adzes to the plantation zone and get digging, surrounding each newly planted tree with a circular ditch which will aid with water retention in times of flood.   it is an amazing, everyone has the afternoons free (apart from the few souls who are part of the cooking team)  or else there are workshops offered by anyone who likes.  it is 3:25 and i must soon dash to catch one entitled 'getting to know thy inner self' (or something) .   it is starting to rain people are saying.  it has always been hot and rather muggy - walking about in nothing but a lunee sort of weather, but today the rain is coming.  till today everybody has been flocking religiously to the mudpool after morning work, where you can swim in the cloudy brown water then smear your body with mud and ly out in the sun till it cakes and cracks then wash your hair with mud and leave it smooth and feeling silky after rinsing.    it is 3:30 and i am stopping writing and going to the workshop, ciao

maneesh at the mudpool

dimitar and raj's performance, wednesday night non-talent show

communication sous entendu

it does seem rather unlikely that i am in india, sitting barefoot in a dusty internet joint above the beep beeep, beepbeepbeep beep beeeeep street, gently perspiring into my gently clinging shirt, wondering where i am going to wee when the time comes. i speak next to nothing of tamil.  however, all the well-dressed young males on the street so far have been obliging and english-spoken when imparting information regarding buses.  after some bus information impartation, one youth inquired whether i was here on business and then inquired where i was from.  "ah scotland, very nice place"  i was thinking of what response i could give to this "very nice place" and the first thing that came into my mind was, it is cold in scotland.  i also thought, the streets are very peaceful and orderly in scotland.   what is a place if it is not different from other places?  i thought of Stirling Castle, the Myth of the Loch Ness Monster, the Pap of Glencoe, the Isle of Lewis, the town of St Andrews, the Standing Stones of Stenness, the Linn o' Dee, the Brig o' Balgownie... i brought to mind the image of all these places and surmised that that youth's comment was a fair one: Scotland is a very nice place.   he was probably referring to education and health care.   i took one look at the boys running after the crowded buses ahead and then jumping and grabbing onto the exterior railing, letting their feet dangle inches above the fast spinning road, and thought: i have always wanted to be in India.  disinterest in considerations of safety, grabbing on for dear life, palm trees and woman wearing beautifully swishing saris, sitting on the ground to eat, playing adroitly with the rice dish on one's plate, forming it into a pickupable ball before adroitly flicking it into one's mouth, just as matthias told me, in asha niketan, the l'arche community in chennai.   mary, the current head of the community rolled her head from side to side, as a gesture of welcome, of agreement, of complicity, of are-you-following-what-i-am-saying? just as matthais told me.   mary was draped stylishly in a rich dark green sari and rolled her head from side to side in a most captivating way.  i already had written to asha niketan a week before i arrived, but having received no response, i decided to phone them directly the second day after arrival.  the person on the line listened to my story and said "could you wait a minute?" then someone else came on the line who listened to my story and said "sorry could you say that again a little slower?" then after a while said to me: "yes, come any time you want"   i went through the gradations of directness of communication, from an email to a phone call to actually finding their address and walking in and shaking their hands.  an email is like waving to somebody from afar, from the other side of a wide river, phoning is also akin to waving from a certain distance, but much closer.  and presenting oneself directly in front, hand extended ... there were great handshakes full of friendly welcome as soon as i walked into their dusty strip of ground flanked by buildings, palm trees and young banana trees.  there was an instant acceptance, a quality handicapped people are famous and wonderful for.  i don't know if all of them realised that i spoke no tamil - one woman certainly did, for every time i crossed paths with her she would break into smiles of joy and exclaim gleefully: no tamil!   me not speaking tamil was the least of our concerns because there was so much joy in her eyes. with another call member (call members they are called in that community) i tried to imitate the sounds he was making which at one point included a singsong na, na na na na naa! which i duly imitated and thenceforth often the crossing of our paths was heralded by such singing to each other.   there was one guy this morning who became intent upon revealing some fascinating pieces of information to me as we were sitting outside on the wall.  perhaps it was a story he was retelling.  it involved lots of engaging hand gestures. quite frequently i discerned the word chennai, and knew he was telling me something about the city.  samira was another frequently discerned word, and i imagined it was the name of a girl, whose exploits he was recounting to me with great intensity of emotion.  at one stage i thought i could also pick out the odd word in italian, or french or german, or even english, phrases such as: allontonare or allons-y or geben mir or wishfully or perhaps even pontificate.  i told myself that it was very improbable that he was in fact using such words that were known to me, they were but sounds familiar to my ear which i desperately wished to attach meaning to.   well, i began responding in a bit of german and in a bit of english anyway, as well as accompanying his flowing speech with regular mmmms and aaaah yeses, in order that the conversation were not so one-sided, and, rather than mocking his offer of communcation with my show of fictitious understanding (something which did cross my mind), i graudally understood he did actually understand every word which i offered in response, that there was a great stream of sous entendu communication taking place between us, and what was produced a veritable frenzied exchange of our impressions of life.  he became very eloquent with his hand gestures, at times holding his hand palm upwards and making a little thrusting forward motion, indicating something quick and snappy, other times adopting a sort of surfing pose, one arm outstretched confidently, communicating to me the idea of great elegance and balance and poise, and other times it was a simple finger held in front of his face that gave a deft little wiggle.  i reproduced all of these gestures as best i could and his face beamed with enthusiasm and after more than half an hour it seemed that such rich communication between us could have gone on indefinitely.

franci (one of the few call members whose name was not so unfamiliar to my ears that i could recall it) was one of the few call members who did not smile, rather she pouted, and fixed me with an apprehensive little glare.  however, she did want to communicate things to me and did so by grabbing my hand and leading me on a walk, sometimes to the prayer hall - a small round low building - where there is a copy of the bhagavad gita, the bible and the koran all placed side by side on little lecturns on a table at the front.  there is also a candle and incense spot at the front next to a wild wavy flowery circular design made with little grains of rice on the floor.   she chose a wicker seat by the wall and i sat down next to her and there we simply looked at each other.

flight time

it seems improbable that before a week is up i will be in india.   unlikely and improbable.
here i am wrapping up warm everytime i venture outside the house.  i have become accustomed to the yellow peeling leaves and the cool scottish air in autumn.  the cool autumn air in scotland.  here i am accustomed to cutting up root ginger into little pieces and letting them boil in water and infuse the water with fiery ginger warmth which makes the body glow from the inside.  somebody told me that they use a lot of ginger in their cooking in india.   sure enough, every time one scans the ingredients of a collection of spices called curry powder, ginger will be there.  how do i even know that india exists?  i have so far had no empirical proof, just documentaries seen on tv, and everytime i open an atlas i see the representation of a pointed mass of spicy land thrust southwards from the himalayan chain, protruding into the indian ocean, full stopped by a signature sri lankan teardrop.

it seems improbable that saudia arabian airlines have agreed to take me with them to india.   however, all i need to do is go to my emails and there is the invoice corroborating that i will indeed fly with them.  improbable and unnecessary.  why do i need to be whisked through the air at such a speed?   i wanted to travel gently, sensitively, i wanted to observe, i wanted to inch my way across the land, i wanted to feel the entire length of turkey, i wanted to traverse iran, to meet the iranians and meet the pakistanis and feel myself getting closer and closer to india.  i wanted.... i wanted...... it can't be lamented now.   i can't believe how much arbitrary authority those visa authorities have, at the mere flick of a pen they can decide the travel itinerary of a poor visa applicant.   first of all i applied and they objected to my passport being tatty.   "damaged" was the word they used (admittedly i had not looked after it over the years.)  then i reapplied with a shiny new passport and they informed me that i could not enter india in may, as i had requested, that if they were to give me a visa it had to become valid immediately.  how do some people manage to achieve adventurous long-distance bicycle itineraries in the face of such adamantine visa limitations?  perhaps if i had gone to the visa application centre in person and voiced my objection in a resonable tone of voice and with a look of sincerity in my eyes... perhaps, in a less principled society, i could have slipped somebody a note somewhere and thus have been granted my desired visa and granted permission to follow my desired path.

in any case, i am cognisant of the great freedom of choice in my movements across the planet which puts me in a far more privileged position than the majority of world citizens who are cornered and clustered by the authorities in the same way that a crochety shepherd herds his troop of sheep.

i couldn't really give a comprehensive account of why exactly i have chosen to fly to india.  i could call it a calling but i could likewise say that i simply want to be there.  it actually feels like there is an invisible cord which links me to the indian landmass, and which has been tugging at me with undisguised insistence for the last couple of years.  it is like an attraction between two people, or between two magnets, undeniable, irrepressible, implacable, unflagging.   i think maybe i will meet somebody there who will change my life, or maybe someone else will meet me, and i will change their life.   in any case, i feel that this tugging has gone on for long enough now, and the most opportune thing for me to do at this juncture is to forget about cycling (toilsome activity that it is) and to just fly there and get shot of the thing and then be able to get on with my life.