This is the first Monday morning I have been on my own since we got here. In the morning we got up earlier than usual, school starts at 7.50 here. We had breakfast downstairs in the Restaurant. It is funny to have breakfast in a hotel in school uniform. It is very tempting to have holiday menu, doughnuts and milk shakes. Going to school deserves cornflakes and toast-that kind of boring stuff.Then the driver came and Nick and Kitty left the hotel. Other people at breakfast are business people, ties, black trousers, crisp ironed white shirts, aftershave, and my darling Kitty in her school uniform, carrying her heavy bag gets in the car happily. 'bye bye mummy'. I go back to the table , pick up the Bombay Times and have a long breakfast with the voices of three Indian businessmen from Texas (more American than Indian) talking about pros and cons of Wall mart in America. They sound like oral presentations of 1st year University students.
What shall I do today? I look out of the window. There is a big empty field next to the hotel. There are two sometimes three men sitting in white plastic chairs everyday, all day long. There are also some dogs in that field doing exactly the same. They are not guard dogs, nor they are pets. They are just dogs. The men sit there, the dogs sleep around, sometimes the dogs sit there the men sleep around. When I open the curtains that is what I see. I call them 'my men'. They do less than I do. I do less than they do.
Today, I want to visit the temple we went yesterday and spend some time there. Yesterday, there was a very keen young monk from Mauritius who gave information about the temple, their ideology, etc. He wants us to go their hospital, see what they have been doing for the community, and visit their Ashram too. We call him 'my converter'. There needs to be more to convince me into an Ashram, but he does not know it -yet.
Then I will go to the supermarket. I will have to be driven there since it is half an hour away and I want to do a big shop. Living in a hotel is lovely but restaurant food every evening gets to you. We want boiled potatoes, my type of veg, eat as much as I want , not to feel bad about leaving food on the plate, and yogurt, and salad with my type of dressing. How spoilt I get. There is food prepared waiting for us and I want boiled tatties. I should practice a bit more Buddhist or Hindu or Christian or Muslim ideology of being grateful.
I make my self a cup of tea in the room (a flat actually) and push the 'service' button. It means that they will come and tidy it up. Lovely! I do not need to do anything. I can read the book I bought yesterday, watch Indian films on TV, read small quirky stories in the newspaper and then it will be time to pick Kitty up. I can survive like this for a week perhaps, After that I have to work. I have to do something with myself.
The telephone rings in a tone I can not recognise. It is a cheap, new, blue mobile we bought for local calls. It is so light, so small and the ringing tone is so alien to me that every time it rings I panic. We need to go and look at some flats, have photographs taken, shopping needs to be done earlier. My little world of plans have changed, changed utterly! The lazy plan of the day is gone. 'My men' have shifted themselves to a shade. The dogs are still asleep.
What shall I do today? I look out of the window. There is a big empty field next to the hotel. There are two sometimes three men sitting in white plastic chairs everyday, all day long. There are also some dogs in that field doing exactly the same. They are not guard dogs, nor they are pets. They are just dogs. The men sit there, the dogs sleep around, sometimes the dogs sit there the men sleep around. When I open the curtains that is what I see. I call them 'my men'. They do less than I do. I do less than they do.
Today, I want to visit the temple we went yesterday and spend some time there. Yesterday, there was a very keen young monk from Mauritius who gave information about the temple, their ideology, etc. He wants us to go their hospital, see what they have been doing for the community, and visit their Ashram too. We call him 'my converter'. There needs to be more to convince me into an Ashram, but he does not know it -yet.
Then I will go to the supermarket. I will have to be driven there since it is half an hour away and I want to do a big shop. Living in a hotel is lovely but restaurant food every evening gets to you. We want boiled potatoes, my type of veg, eat as much as I want , not to feel bad about leaving food on the plate, and yogurt, and salad with my type of dressing. How spoilt I get. There is food prepared waiting for us and I want boiled tatties. I should practice a bit more Buddhist or Hindu or Christian or Muslim ideology of being grateful.
I make my self a cup of tea in the room (a flat actually) and push the 'service' button. It means that they will come and tidy it up. Lovely! I do not need to do anything. I can read the book I bought yesterday, watch Indian films on TV, read small quirky stories in the newspaper and then it will be time to pick Kitty up. I can survive like this for a week perhaps, After that I have to work. I have to do something with myself.
The telephone rings in a tone I can not recognise. It is a cheap, new, blue mobile we bought for local calls. It is so light, so small and the ringing tone is so alien to me that every time it rings I panic. We need to go and look at some flats, have photographs taken, shopping needs to be done earlier. My little world of plans have changed, changed utterly! The lazy plan of the day is gone. 'My men' have shifted themselves to a shade. The dogs are still asleep.
kitty: lovely mummy! you write so well!!!!
ReplyDeleteNice to hear you have been to a temple - I love visiting them. Maybe you can spend a few moments in meditation there sometimes - it does help to bring peace and inspiration. Om - Alida
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