After another week of spiraled walkways and stigmata-inducing screwdrive-screwing, not to mention snot nosed sickness, it was high time to get some government bhang. On our way out the ashram angan David greeted us at the door and joined the movement. He's the first to buy the smallest of the 3 different-sized black balls behind the bars of the government bhang shop. Ten rupees each. Maybe theres opium mixed in. Here we go.
"That wasn't too bad." David says, washing his down with some water. Jesus pops his, then me as we shuffle down dusty streets looking for something to do.
"Where do you want to go?" We ask each other. We walk past an amazingly adorned entranceway. An indian at the door holds a ladder and motions us in. "Lets go in here and get some food." David says. We go inside and the only people there are those who are setting up the event. It looked like it was going to be huge. 'Lets come back later' we decide and continue on our way. We stop at a veggie roll place that Jesus likes and David remembers a veggie roll place thats even better... and cheaper.
We cruise through the Muslim quarter and find the cart. Its just a stone throws from a sweet-bread place Jesus showed me just the other day. The cart is four wheeled fun, with the sultans back up against the wall, cranking out veggie wraps, veg and egg rolls and chowmein like a chinese factory churns out cheap shit. But this shits good and just as cheap. No wonder the carts crammed with peeps and we have to sit and wait. All the little Muslim boys know whats up and are kickin it with their own veggie wraps. Theres a few plastic stools and eventually we find a place to sit. The kids gather around and watch our every move. This is the place to be. The cart is on a busy corner of an intersection that has the vibrations of a spanish plaza. All the kids run free as parents spill from the shops fueling energy on the street.
A super energized teenager comes up to me, "Whats your name?" and we meet. This kid is the king. He breaks down to us the street. He loves it and so do we. He takes a seat, and the younger kids stand there still, staring, telling each other jokes as they eat. The king's wearing a tailored purple button down shirt and he lets us know whats up:
"Thats the Sultan" He says, with a tilt of the head. The sultan keeps this place fed. "Whats your mobile number?" He asks us. We don't know. We're up and out and walking back down the street. We pass the same wedding place and hear some drumming, so we go inside.
Ahhh!! Its the hypnotic power drummers! And they are stoked to see us. We scope out the scene more and its incredible. The bride and groom havent arrived yet, as they are probably on parade in a different part of town. Next to the power drummers is a full on discotek setup with huge speakers and a DJ at the ready. In front of the speakers is the most glorious illuminated, checkered-out, star-lit pulsating dancefloor! This parties gonna go off! We're already turned on so we're stoked to get it started early. Especially Jesus! They get the music bumpin and the dancefloor flashin, so Jesus jumps right on. David and I watch as do about 50 Indians, thoroughly amused. Jesus doesnt even give a rip - he gets so into it! Jesus is getting the dance party started!! He rules the floor solo, whilst everyone looks on.
the most glorious illuminated, checkered-out, star-lit pulsating dancefloor
I trip hard on the biblical reality of it all & grab my video camera to catch a scene before jumpin on the floor myself. We're both trying to get the little kids to jump on with us, but I think everyones so blown away by the foreigners crashing the wedding they're content to just sit back and observe. So we make the most of it and have a blast interacting with the flashing lights below our feet. One moment they're cascading like a water fall, sweeping me off the floor and into the crowd. The next moment they're repeating lines that need to be jumped over like jump-roping over lazer beams. Jesus and I get lucid and mix it up with the light, we don't need no human beings! The dancefloors bursting with particles, and everyone doin' the wave.
We take a break and meet up with David. The power drummers want to play drums for us now and get us to dance some more. So they get the DJ to kill the set and they start up their own. HOOO!!!! I'm settled back with my bro's and our lovely hosts provide us with some seats next to the drummers. I am ridiculously stoned on the bhang and the drumming is absolute full-power. I'm torn, but then I lock eyes with "The Genie" He's got his makeup on, his turbins bling and he's ready to go. He, and freakin everyone there, motion me on the floor with just him. I couldn't hide my desire to get down. But it was too much! It was too far!! And I was so gone, if I had wings I would've flown into the stars. And thats where we were. But we did. It went down no matter what. I had a dance off with him. He shook it down. He had such rad style. He moved like a snake. It was hypnotic. I felt so overwhelmed, he was my teacher. I felt so honored to dance with him, yet I was way too high. I felt so light and exploded into the artificial lights hanging in the air. I went into the sky, then I dove into the sea. I bowed upon the ground and swirled with the galaxy. The rhythm of the drummers was nothing but on. I wanted David or Jesus to film this amazing moment and unfortunately that divided my attention cuz they couldn't get my camera to record. So the dance came to an end and the Genie knew I was high. I felt bad for a second, but didn't care. I just wanted him to dance with me. The moment was gone. And yet captured in film. The moment the genie walked away from me. How honored I was to dance with this man! An indian friend who had been talking with me broke it down. He heard me cough and said "You shouldn't be smoking." Ah shoot. I was called out. I wasn't smoking though, I was just cruisin with my bro's on the government's bhang!
We kick it and listen to the drummers drum some more and talk with our new friends. Before we leave I want to shake the genies hand and say goodbye. I find him at the other side of the hall stirring a giant vat of milk with shiva's trident. He was in his own zone. He gave me a look of distain, but I saw there was grace in his eyes for a fool like me. Nothing but respect was felt. I'm trying to figure out what was going on when someone at the vat broke it all down for me. I didn't understand, but I was ready to go. The Genie was still in the zone, stirring the massive bowl. "Namaste Ji. Danyavad." I said to him and his crew and they bid me farewell.
Back with the Spanish crew we cruised, trippin so hard on the scene we were just in. Its unbelievable being somewhere you don't know. All you do know is that your on an illuminated dancefloor at a wedding in India. And there you are. Your dancing. And everyone is watching. And you don't know why. But you embrace it. You observe it. You love it. And you lose yourself to it. And when you get off that dancefloor and move right along, you know: it was meant to be.
"This is a good story." I thought, I'm in love with it! Smiles were ear to ear as we merged into charcoal grey streets filled with beeping horns & stolid cows. Those inexplicable streets! Pulsating with life, ebbing with pain, moving with energy, choking on poverty, churning with grease, mingled in mania, dusty as stone, colorful as paradise, dainty as death and throbbing... constantly fermenting with mystery. Those Indian streets: Dodgy, dirty, deadly & alive!
What possibly could follow? David stopped to grab a soda and I grabbed one too. We sat on a bench and recollected. A friendly indian joined in on the fun. Jesus now has the giggles big time. The wedding put us on a higher plane. We're so stoked just to be alive. Jesus just cracks up. He folds under his own laughter. He's crying, he's slobbering. "Bhang lassi" The Indian says stoically, looking down on him. "How does he know?" Jesus says, bursting into tears, convulsing in mirth. Its a little obvious. "Theres joy in his heart" I say. Jesus told me later - "I just abandoned myself to it..."
"Why not?" Its a good question, and Jesus likes to ask it. Thus, he paid the hilarious price for giving in. How good it is to just let ourselves be so light in the middle of this crazy town. How good it is to just laugh and laugh and laugh some more. How good it is to be free and to know, its not 'just okay' to laugh, its quite alright, so laugh some more!
But maybe the shop keeper didnt feel so jolly just right then. Cuz we weren't really connecting, and thats okay too. David decided to go his own way, he had some things he wanted to do. So Jesus and I dropped into the serenity of the ghats. Jesus was mute, but joyful, utilizing his right to remain silent - vippasana style. We found a spot and sat for a moment with mother gange and the mystery of her spell.
A small puppy the size of my doorstep dog was there. He came and greeted me and I petted him. I recalled Yeshuas love for dogs and began what I thought would be a profound homily, but gave up halfway through. I was too stoned. But in a good way. So we sat in silence together. And then the mosquitos came. And then Jesus said "Lets go."
"Lets go to the temple chai shop!" We were so stoked. It is our favorite chai shop. I will always love my sadhu chai walla on the gange, but this place is magical for reasons in itself. Mysterious shanti vibes converge at the intersection here. A plethora of dogs and cows converge. People converge. And when the chai meets your lips, all is well.
One magical thing about the intersection is the marble bench that wraps around the small corner temple where you sit, the Hanumman temple. The bench, as well as the corner, make an acute angle - in which the chai sipper is faced with a more barren street - though it is just a mere head-turn from the action happening in the crisscrossing- plaza of a walking-street. So if the intersection is too stimulating, as it was for me when we first arrived, you can find mental solice simply by sliding around the corner and watching the cows come and go from the side.
So we propped up, backs against the temple and took a chai - sharing a cheers. This was just too good to be true - sitting here together in this wonderful place! Its people watching heaven. Theres a calmness to the corner. Every empirical thing in existance seemingly supports the other.
Its a 4 alley intersection, and its a great place to meet hot Israeli chicks. Fortunately two of them showed up just in time along with a mentally-disturbed Italian man. Jesus knew one of them from before and they stopped to join us. Jesus announced that he was high on bhang and Leah, who had curly hair, said she had partook that evening as well. Everyone seemed in good spirits except Rodriguez who sat by me. He seemed to be mumbling to himself about this and that and felt interrogated by my questions. Thus I turned and talked with the lovely Noa. I told her that my name was Nathan, as in Davids prophet, who was also amongst us. And that last but not least, Jesus was also in our midst. We tripped out on that for a while. And then she, like many Israeli's, was surprised at my familiarity with the narratives of the Tanak. I told her I was familiar with Noah, but not the female Noa. She then told me a rad Jewish story about Noa. It was so cool. But I forgot it. Thus Jesus and I invited them all to come to our acoustic night at the ashram Saturday night. I had hoped I could hear it again and flirt with them some more, in a smart, messianic kind of way.
In the meantime, how rad to see Jesus loving-on his fellow Jews. He didn't mince words in the least. He wanted in bed with Leah as soon as possible and he let her know. He even went in for a kiss. "Not here." she said. Reminding him, "We're in India." I appreciate her. I appreciate them both. Jesus was just going for it. He wanted hot sex with her then and there. "Why not?" The night had given us so much already. And now here we were with two beautiful women.
My first Love called, so I said my goodbye's. It was a full-enough evening and I looked forward to the walk home. As I floated through the alleyways and descended towards the ghats below my steps were light and I felt at home. I remembered why I was so excited to celebrate this day. That afternoon I had bought my plane ticket 'home.' I was headed back to Seattle April 7th whether I liked it or not. I didn't want to go home though. Nor did I want to pay $800 (which was a good price) to go where I didn't want to go. I want to live here in India. I want to go to Dharamsala this summer and live there. I told people in Portland I would be gone maybe up to two years. I wanted to be proud. But I have to go home now. Indian law requires it. And so does my pride. Time to go home. Time to go back to Portland. Time to put in some more time there. Oh Portland. You little prison cell of a playground. You district of debauchery. I love you, receive me into your arms again. * Sigh *
The evening was special in so many cosmic ways. And then the cherry on top for me: The man dressed in complete sackclothe who sleeps outside the mother theresa home. The second or third time I saw him I knew deep inside I would meet him for real. Just like I knew I would meet that crazy poet guy, it all came true. Tonight was the night I'd meet this mysterious man who wears nothing but sackclothe and sleeps outside the mother theresa home! The streets were empty. Everyone was asleep. I saw his silhouetted form sitting upright in the night.
"Namaste Ji!" I said, approaching in the shadows. He raised his hand in "namaste."
"Speak English?"
"Nahai. Hindi"
"Acha.." I said, telling him I only spoke english, knowing this could be an even more amazing conversation. He was just pulling out a beedi. May I have one? I gestured. He gave me one in hospitality. I cozied up in his little space in front of the tree overlooking the Ganga. Its a nice space. And though he has really nothing in his name the space was clean and he looked well kept, though his sackclothe sandles needed to be, uh... re-soled I guess.
Finally, here I was talking with this man. I had wanted to talk with him for months. He returned the positive vibes and we shared a puff on the beedi's together. I kept coughing though, as it was so harsh, and my lungs have been weak. His street dog that snuggles with him came up and joined us.
"Whats his name?" I asked stroking him. He spoke on and on in Hindi. I tried to imagine what he was saying and simply agreed.
And then he asked me quite a few questions himself. "You - doctor?" No, no. I wasn't a doctor. He was really keen to know who I was. It seemed he thought I was a social worker or something of the like. I could tell he was thinking "Why is this man talking with me? No one just comes up and talks with me." Which, from my perspective as well, was true. I don't know if I've ever seen someone talk with this guy, much less hang out with him in front of the tree with his dog. I was so frickin stoked to have this break through. In the midst of his questioning it made me wonder what his past experience was with people who just came up and talked with him. It wasn't hard to deduce that they might have been doctors. I could tell there was some mental illness probably in the house, but that he was quite a lot more clear-minded than I'd originally deemed. There was a sort of pleasant peace about him and I really enjoyed sitting with him after all this time and quite enjoyed his company. I told him I wasn't a doctor, just a friend. That worked for him and bought us a little more time together.
"Mother Theresa house." I said, motioning to the building next to us.
"Acha, Mother Theresa." He said. I listened to his voice. I had thought perhaps he had a falling out with them, but there was respect in his voice. I'm sure they look out after him as theres definitely a good reason why he camps in front of their pad.
I then communicated to him the best I could that I walk past here regularly and just wanted to say hello. He totally got it and was thankful I stopped by. We bid each other farewell and a goodnight.
It couldn't have been better. To finally meet that man. And to remember that on one night when I walked by him my conscience was stricken. Oh to be this way and all alone. I had felt so alone that day too, yet alone in my wealth. Its so often been that the best friend I can find is a mere street dog too. But as long as we can find just one friend at all...
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