DAY FORTY
Sitting in the ashram listening to the young Brahmins who have come here for a kind of school. They are learning the verses they will have to chant when they are fully fledged Brahmins. It is a call and response chant, each repeated several times, to aid memorisation. It has a soothing effect listening to it. Meanwhile, a family, all dressed in yellow, (why?) are posing for photo shoots in front of the shrine.
This fly ridden, monkey plagued city is beginning to grow on me. It is filled with ardent pilgrims circumambulating the city barefoot , or by prostration. Crowds throng into temples, clutching bags of flowers of prashad, and at the evening aarti, all stops are pulled out; people singing, incense clouding the air, bells ringing, little candle offerings set afloat the Yamuna River, flower trays are blessed, fires blaze.
Last night, in an effort to get away from the open sewers and flies, and general unsanitary backdrop, we travelled several miles to eat at a rather posh, and expensive restaurant, in the newer part of town.
Meanwhile, during the day we search for a cow rescue shelter. A friend wants me to make a substantive donation on her behalf. Eventually, out of town we find one run by a lovely Brahmin man who has dedicated his life to healing the sick and injured cows. ‘Love is 50% of the cure, he tells me.’
