I remember India

On a day like this, I'm imagining I'm back in India.

It's 30 degrees outside, the air is not moving. The sun was relentless the whole day, now it has disappeared some place but it's not getting any easier.

On a day like this in India, I would wake up around 7 and go out on the roof, listen to the sounds: the yells and the bells of the little town. Cocks crowing, dogs barking, people shouting.

Then I would go out to the little Ayurvedic clinic and have a massage. Two pretty little women are giving it. They are smart in their freshly laundered saris, yasmine blossoms in their hair, still wet from the morning bath. Eyes shining with laughter, joking around in their native Malayalami. 

Later, a bit woozy after the massage, I would climb a couple of stairs that would take me to a roof-top restaurant where I can have some sweet tea and a smoke, and spy on the passers-by.

From there, I would move on to meet my friend who has been to a darshan and we would go to our favourite Tibetan restaurant to have lunch. Lunch, in that climate, would be a very little meal. For me, an omelet with or without tomato, and a big frothy glass of freshly made pineapple juice. They use a kitchen appliance to make that, so it has all the best bits and pieces of fruit inside: cold, delicious ... the best thing I have ever tasted in my life, honest! The owner of this place is a philosopher, like all the Tibetans tend to be. He sits in his booth andis usually busy stringing a mala. We chat, but in India, that means that the conversation turns to religious subjects within the first 5 minutes. I have to say, I feel at home with that!

Around 1 o'clock its getting too hot to do anything and we return home, slowly climbing the stairs to our room. Until 3 or so it's down-time, as for everybody else. People just sleep, the shop-keepers crash on the floor of their shop, everything gets very quiet. 

Then, as the mid-day sun sinks lower, people and animals start moving about again. I would take my swimming suit, grab a moto-riksha and go swimming. My friend goes to darshan again, but not me: my darshan is this. The warm air, the nature, the smells and above all, the people. After an hour at the pool I usually go to visit one or several friends - shopkeepers that I have befriended along the years. They order some tea. Everyone has a little shop-boy, so he'll have to get it.