Raja is taking good care of the land and of us.
The evening we arrived, he gave us a perfect welcome to the country: two weddings and a "coming of age" party--all in Tamil. "We like family now!" he shouted over and over, his voice thick with sweet enthusiasm.
Two days later, we were family... dining with his brothers and parents in a tiny hut in the local village.
We spend our evenings driving around Auroville and Pondy, walking the beaches and building dreams for what we'll do this summer on the land. A better water filter. More mirrors along the path. A new bedroom. A new garden. Or two. More flowers, more fruit, more animals. Whatever. A land of love and life and light--Lumière.
Raja is also our teacher. We are learning salsa, tango, and self-defense. He sits behind me with grave patience as I try try try to master the motorcycle. But my favorite lessons happen almost every evening as we collect our notebooks and sit cross-legged in a circle outside the front door. There, he teaches us Tamil.
"Soon," I tell Vasentha even though she doesn't understand me. "Soon we will be able to chat."
Tonight, Raja bravely led the caravan to the windmill, which we diligently climbed to catch a glimpse of the full moon.
And, of course, I already have a rash. So Raja, our teacher and caretaker, roamed the land and gathered all the right herbs for a perfect healing bath.
It may be India. It may be in the middle of the woods. But don't worry Ma, I'm in good hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment