Those of you who remember the saga of Chime and her various offspring may be interested in the latest developments. A year ago last May, Chime brought a kitten to our door. Literally:
This cat got named Tsilu, and grew up to replace Leopard once he struck out on his own on the hillside to find a good female to settle down with and raise a family. Once Leopard moved on, Tsilu grew up as the Only Child for many months.
Then the siblings arrived. In early July I visited the statue of Padmasambhava, and after a cup of chai one of the construction workers led me down into the basement room, where Chime’s latest litter resided. At the time the kittens were only five days old, and Chime was still nursing them. I eyed them dubiously. If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you’ll know that the life expectancy of a baby anything in Rewalsar is kind of dicey. I told the workers that if the kittens were still alive in three weeks, I would take them.
Time passed. Then one day a friend from the construction site turned up, with too little kittens in tow. The younguns were frightened by the trip up the hill, dusty from living in a construction area, and full of fleas from their feral mother. Chinta and I set to work cleaning them up, and three days later we had kittens that were actually presentable for the camera.
First up: Pixit. A mighty but playful adventuress who thinks nothing of satisfying her curiousity come what may.
She also quickly figured an escape route out of the little kitty house she and her brother were stashed in.
Next: Dixit. His name in Hindi means “scholar,” and he earned it by being the shyer, more reticent of the two. Like his continually bad-tempered mother, Dixit often has a grumpy, and seems to be of two minds as to whether to share.
July 30th, 2009
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Ghari (car — local dialect)
Bajaiya (musicians)
Mommyji (mother) Sue wearing a sari for the very first time
Mamaji (mother’s brother) Bob wearing a pallu (wedding headdress) for the very first time
Parivara (family): Mommyji, Mamaji, Bhai (brother) James, and Behan (sister) Chandra
Dulaha (bridegroom) Martin
Dulahana (bride) Tara
Shaadi (wedding)
Saatiya (husband and wife — local dialect)
July 26th, 2009
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Among our bhi-bhi Chinta’s varied household duties is that of produce shopping. As a local villager who’s known most folks since they were children (and is probably related to the rest) she has the best chance of getting decent quality produce at a reasonable price out of a profit-minded subji-wallah. She can usually haggle the price down from what a Westerner like me would be charged to something a bit more affordable. Also, since she has a bit of farmland in combination with her neighbors, she’s often able to bring in seasonal “local-local” vegetables at no cost.
However, this year everyone has the drought to contend with. Monsoon has not yet reached our region of India. The few rains of the last couple of weeks have been enough to moisten the ground, but not enough to do the farmers much good. And so, several days ago, Chinta turned up at the house empty-handed.
“Kuchne,” she reported disgustedly. Nothing.
Just the day before we had reeled in sticker shock at vegetable prices in Mandi. A subji wallah had informed us–with a straight face–that peas were 70 rupees the kilo. To understand the seriousness of this, most produce here normally runs under R20 a kilo when in season, with exotic stuff like broccoli running closer to R40, and fragile fruits like grapes running probably 60 or more. In this area the average produce seller has no qualms about quoting any price he feels like to Western tourists; after all, he reasons, they can afford it, and they’ll be gone in a couple weeks, anyway. Quoting the same price to a couple of Hindi-speaking women in local salwar suits and dupattas, especially in Mandi where the subji wallahs all sit cheek by jowl selling the same produce, means the vegetable shortages have started in earnest.
After Chinta struck out finding reasonable produce near her village, I wandered down the hill to check the produce available in Rewalsar. It was just as bleak. No tomatoes, at the height of the season. Stumpy, undergrown cucumbers. The kicker was finding peas that were not selling at R70 the kilo. No, these were priced at R80.
I returned home also without buying anything, and Chinta and I commiserated over the current state of vegetables. Nothing was worth buying, and what there was was too expensive.
“Well,” I said finally,” I guess we’ll be losing a bit of weight over the next couple months.”
Meantime, the water rationing continues. During rationing they turn off the water supply except for public handpumps for a period of anything from four hours to a full day. Today I woke up to greetings from my next door neighbor, a schoolteacher with two sons. He told me his water tank was empty; did I have any water? By now the morning water-tank check has become routine. Climb the stairs to the roof, fish out the practically indestructible iron ladder, and climb to the water tank platform. Then use a key to unlock the monkey-proofed lid, and peek inside.
Half empty, and not refilling. The water is off again.
I grew up in California, so I thought I understood water shortages. But the situation here calls for a lot more than just putting the toilet on “California rules*”. This year’s learning curve has been steep, with little room for error. Like everyone else I’ve quickly learned to stash a couple of full water jugs against the next round of rationing. Making sure there’s enough water in the drinking filter is now an automatic thing. The Indian-style bucket wash makes more sense than a more luxurious Western-style shower. And these days, no trip to Rewalsar is complete without seeing a group of Indians, Tibetans, and schoolchildren gathered around the public water pumps, waiting to fill buckets, bottles, and jugs.
As I write this, they’ve turned on the water again. The tank has refilled, and off in the distance are fluffy cumulus clouds, promising (but not yet delivering) rain. Now all that remains is to see what the subji wallahs are selling tomorrow…
* During water shortages in California, the basic rule is: “if it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.”
July 12th, 2009
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A special announcement for SF/Bay Area readers who are interested in the Dharma, or Tibetan Buddhism:
Continuing today, July 4th in Berkeley and at various locations around the SF Bay Area through mid-July, Venerable Wangdor Rimpoche will be teaching from the complete text of Kaden Sho Lap, translated as “Flight of the Garuda,” a Dzogchen heart text of the Nyingma lineage. Rimpoche traces the core text back to the words of Padmasambhava himself. He has agreed to do “Flight of the Garuda” in its entirety, including commentaries and transmission of the Direct View of Mind. He will be teaching this over the course of nine or ten sessions (final number depends upon suitable locations.)
NOTE: All sessions are open to the public, and you do not have to attend all sessions to receive these teachings. Wangdor Rimpoche sincerely hopes that those of you who are in the Bay Area will try to attend as often as possible to receive the transmission and pointing out and hear this beautiful, poetic text for yourselves. As a Dzogchen Heart Text, Flight of the Garuda prepares the dedicated student of Dzogchen meditation to achieve full realization.
Here’s more info about the weekend teaching:
July 4, 2009
10:30 am - 4:30 pm
Berkeley, CA — Flight of the Garuda Parts 6 & 7
Teachings from the Flight of the Garuda
Times:
10:30 am - 12:00 pm (Saturday)
3:00 pm to 4:30 pm (Saturday)
10:30 am - 12:00 pm (Sunday)
Location:
Dondrup Ling Center (2nd flr)
2748 #D Adeline Street, Berkeley, CA 94703
Please arrive by 10am to be seated. Some cushions and folding chairs are available.
Flight of the Garuda Songs #9 “Mist Dream and Optical Illusions “; #10 “The Mind Created Universe “; #11 “The Natural State of Freedom “.
and possibly:
#12″The Crystal Metaphor and the Dynamic of Being”; #13 “Instructions in working with emotions”; #14 “Instruction in the Recognition of One Taste”; and #15 “The Nonduality of Stillness and Movement”; if Rimpoche decides to go that far this weekend. How many songs he decides to give in a given session is decided at the time of the teaching. These teachings will continue on July 7, in Oakland, CA, 7:00 pm at 1039 6th St.
The Garuda is a mythical bird renowned for its speed and martial prowess. The Flight of the Garuda is a Tibetan Buddhist text consisting of 23 poetic songs to help meditators attain Dzogchen (Great Perfection) realization—beyond the Karmic wheel of causation.
The aim is to cut through the root of the mind attached to the appearance of phenomena and experience the true nature of mind—the Primordial Awareness. The more experience you have in meditation, the more you will gain from this teaching, however even beginners will benefit from participating in a teaching from such an accomplished Dzogchen Master as Lama Wangdor. We are honored that he has agreed to teach this material.
July 4th, 2009
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