Linda: Unforgettable, March 8

Unforgettable

On an almost cool morning, the four women taking the Ayurvedic class and Eleanor (the advantages of being a child) set out across the Kerelan countryside to visit Sarath and his family. All the women are special in their own way, each bringing an intelligence and way of being that has added both to the class and the dynamics of personalities within the class. The car meandered through the lush, tropical Kerelan countryside. Coconut palm and banana trees swayed and glistened in the early morning sun as families went about their early morning chores. As we passed through the small towns, most of the shops were closed, though a few fruit shops were, thankfully, opened. We purchased fruits and sweets as gifts for the family – which made the shopkeeper very, very happy. Here, the first sale of the day is extremely auspicious. It is very fortunate if the first sale is in the morning, and even more auspicious if it is a good sale. Sometimes, special deals can be made as the afternoon hour approaches, in the hopes of making that morning sale. All was quiet, the special inward hush at the start of a new day. And my heart was filled with a quiet anticipation.

An hour of driving, a little island of time between our life at the Cultural Center and this new world, making this day somehow not quite of this world – set apart. The driver calls Sarath for specific directions and moments later, as we drive through a small town, we see a familiar figure on a motorcycle in the center of the road. Our knightly escort in modern mode! Quite unexpected, we laugh in delight. We turn between two shops onto a small dirt road and, minutes later, spill out of the car to be warmly greeted by Sarath and his mother and father.

The family home is a large, two story home constructed of a white, stucco like material and tile roof. A garden with some lovely ornamental flowers is between the house and a nearby building used for the preparations of medicines. All is tended with obvious love and tenderness. Plants are also in beds along the front of the house, between the house and the wall that separates the property from the road. We only saw part of the bottom story of the house, most of which was dedicated for seeing and treating patients. The front hall was screened off for consultations, and in the back there was a waiting room and an amply supplied pharmacy. Rows and rows of lovely medicinals, their shining bottles lining glass cases. I was home!

But this we saw later. When we first entered, we went upstairs to the living room. Comfortable chairs and couches line the room with lovely brass tables and other brass boxes and decorations on top. There is a large cabinet with family memorabilia, the testament of family love and joy. Tea is served and Sarath and his father remain to entertain us and make us feel welcomed. Within moments, family photo albums come out and we are treated to those memories that are most precious and meaningful: Sarath’s sister’s engagement and wedding celebrations, stunningly adorable pictures of the first grandchild (now 2), and the treasured family photos of the family and the children as they grew up. The sun was streaming in the large window and conversations were struck in both parts of the room, Eleanor and I listening to and enjoying photographs with Sarath’s father while the other three women poured over albums with Sarath. Albums are exchanged, and somehow, in those few moments of sharing, a bond is formed. We are treated like family, taken into the loving bosom of generosity and grace, sharing that which is most dear. And so it goes.

Sarath’s father is an animated and engaging man who proudly and delightfully shares details about the family and about the medicines he prepares. Pride and gratitude and love for his children and for the way of life given to him pour from his being. But one sees it especially well in those unguarded moments, when, in thinking no one is looking, his gaze falls on his son. There is happiness. Sarath’s mother, also a doctor of great repute, is quiet and self-contained, the expression of her love and devotion in her eyes and in the joy of preparing food for her son’s students. Quiet, self-contained, and yet, there is an intensity and depth about her – aware, immensely and deeply aware, intelligent, generous and humble. Her life is for others; the fullness of her being is a gift, every day.

Tantalizing smells begin to waft their way – after all, it is still morning. Our hearts melt into stunned silence as we round the corner of the room and see a table lain with a gorgeous breakfast feast. We sit and are served by the family. Eggs, toast, rice, several vegetarian dishes, coffee, respect, graciousness, light conversation, and good will all heaped high.

Afterwards, we visit the small building where medicines are made. Here, my little survivalist heart beats wildly. Mortars and pestles of various sizes, some very old and made of a special kind of rock are placed in various locations. There are cutting boards and a large gas stove under a nearby window (one concession to modernity) that is designed to hold large brass or copper vessels of medicinal oil preparations. And then there were lovely, lovely earthenware pots of various sizes where the herbs ferment, bringing out all the medicinal goodness for our use. The earthenware pots are lined with ghee (clarified butter) before the herbs and oils are put inside. The ghee acts as part of the medicine and also lines the inside of the pot to keep the medicines from seeping through the container and to keep the air out. The top is sealed with a thick cap of mud. These earthen pots are very large. The bottom of the pot is V-shaped and buried about 1-2 feet into the earth. This reduces the horizontal contact with the soil, thus reducing the problem of water collecting and seeping into the container. Stunningly simple and intelligent construction. Splendid! And we were treated to various fermented medicinal samplings – some of which were, unlike my remedies, rather tasty!

It was after seeing this building that we went into the downstairs part of the house where the consultation area, waiting area, and pharmacy are. I already mentioned the rows and rows of gleaming medicines, but we were also shown some of the medicinal treasures: palm leaf manuscripts, two inches wide, a foot long, several inches thick with a simple wooden cover containing the slokas and Vedic wisdom passed down through the ages and a book, never published and never will be, of arcane medical knowledge to be safeguarded by the family. As we went outside to the porch, a package had arrived for Sarath. Obviously, it was something special – what a gift to be present at such a moment. For inside, was the official certificate for his completion of his medical program. Though he had finished the program nearly two years ago, it was on this very day that the certificate arrived. How touchingly beautiful it was to see Sarath open this up to show to his parents. And even more beautiful were the looks on their faces that he never saw. How immensely, immensely proud they are. There was a glistening in his father’s eyes and a quiet, complete joy in his mother’s. For a few moments, we all seemed to disappear, and they stood in total togetherness. A rare love, given and reciprocated.

It was all so joyful and so simple. I was just thinking it was time to leave when we learned that we would be able to see the original home and property. And this joy came with the added bonus of being able to meet Sarath’s grandmother who was now living in another home with her other daughter. I was in one car, heading for the homestead while Sarath left in his, stopping to get his grandmother on the way, both properties being a modest distance further down the dirt road. I first met the grandmother when she got out of the car, a small woman whose energy and love filled the air. I have never, ever been as warmly and genuinely embraced and taken to heart on a first meeting as with this generous woman. And this was her greeting to one and all. Nothing was held back. Her love was pure, it was good. There was so little of her and so much of heaven in her. We all held her in a kind of awe, partly through the strength of her own warmth and goodness and partly through the stories Sarath had shared about her and her husband, stories told with such warmth and respect and reverence.

Her presence told part of the story, but the home that she shared with her family told the rest. This, this was a home. It absolutely radiated happiness, even though it has not been lived in for a little while. It is a simple home of one story with an exquisite tile roof made in that lovely style unique to Kerela that seems to have a Chinese or Thai influence. There is lovely stonework gracing the outline of the roof where it meets the porch and large windows on all sides. Outside the house is a shed for cows, the wooden half-wall carved with a simple, homey pattern – one of the many little details that showed the delight the family had in this abode. Beside the cow shed is a deep well, still high with sparkling water. The house is surrounded by many trees and plants bearing fruit and medicines: mango, cashew, neem, so many others – none familiar to me, and thus, all the more intriguing. The construction of the inside of the house is also very fascinating. It is basically four large rooms (kitchen, living room, two bedrooms) surrounding a very large granary! Because the granary is under the ridge of the house, it is quite tall, starting at 5 feet from the ground and going up to the rooftop. It is made of a beautiful dark wood and was once filled with grains. I wonder why it was in the middle of the house and if this was typical of earlier times. Under the granary, occupying the lower area was another space for storage. Two little things captured my imagination as I went into this home. The first was the kitchen which seemed to be the center of the happiness that this home contained. Sometimes, one can enter a room where people are sitting and, despite it being very quiet and everyone is doing their individual things, you know that there had been an argument or some sort of disagreeableness. Other times, you are taken into a room and you are undeservedly and irresistibly swept up into the good will and joy of the people present. This was such a room. There must have been many years of love to build up such a presence in a house. The other little joy of this home was in a cupboard in the first bedroom. Grandmother took a key and unlocked the cupboard. The cupboard was empty except for an old photograph of her mother. Two things struck me. First was the unbelievable strength of character that came from the face of this woman in the photograph. It was a strength of character that one no longer sees, though we are in great need of it. The second was the care she took in locking the cabinet though it was now empty. What had it held, that it still evoked such loving carefulness? We walked around the property – complete, self-sufficient, and waiting … waiting for that next one to come. May that be soon. It was all too much, this perfect little place, and I found Eleanor’s arms around me in her understanding way of hers, as the tears formed in the corners of my eyes.

We took Grandmother back to her home, another jewel in the sun. It was here that the sword of Sarnath’s forefathers is kept. It is a beautiful piece, double edged and fine with a pommel that can be added for use in single handed or double handed battle. But the greatest pleasure was not in seeing the sword, but in seeing Sarath’s face and being while he held it. Here was the symbol of his family, of noble courage, of upright nature, of goodness, of self-sacrifice, of making a difference. It is his legacy and his hope. It is the past, but more importantly, it is the future, his future. We took our leave of Grandmother, and even as I write this, I can still feel her arms around me and the look in her eyes, wishing me well with her heart and her mind. An angel has blessed me, and I will always be the better for it.

Can more goodness be put into this cup? We returned to Sarath’s home where we gathered around the computer to view various items of interest and photos that were on his desktop. A touch of the mischievous side of our noble doctor comes out. There are several medical procedures on his computer with some fascinating surgical procedures, but definitely not everyone’s cup of tea! With a smile and laugh that is particularly Sarath, we are treated to view these various procedures (after all this is a class on medicine), despite the fact that most of us were hiding behind books or only taking occasional and surreptitious looks. The serious and the humorous, all at once, with a big dash of human as well. It was the flip side of the day and brought my feet and my head back to earth. It was, the proper medicine.

But there was a reason for this delay by the computer. Unknown to us, the family had decided at 1:00 that we would also have lunch. So, while we were “watching”, Sarath’s mother and the servant were preparing lunch. A “small” meal that was, to me, a feast of “joyful deliciousness”. This small meal was rice with at least 4 different vegetarian dishes and salads as well as fruit and juice. If the meal had been planned, we were told, it would have been much bigger! This time, Sarath’s father joined us and the taxi driver was included in our splendid repast. (Later, when I commented about this to the taxi driver, I saw how immensely honored and delighted he was by this act of kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity. For him, this day, too, was one to remember.) Sarath and his mother served us, and after we had eaten all we could, Sarath and his mother ate while we continued our light conversation, a conversation that was made all the more happy and joyful by the presence of one particular student who has an irrepressible sense of humor and way of bringing people together and making people feel genuinely at ease. Every ship abandoned on a desert island should have one like her!

My cup runneth over.

How can one reciprocate such love and such generosity, given completely, given humbly? We are visitors in a distant land, far from any means of returning the joy given, of invitation into our lives and being. But none is expected. It is a total gift. As we drive home, I find the tears are once again welling in the corners of my eyes, and I realize … it is going to be very, very hard to leave India. After two months here, she has come not only into my brain, but into my heart. Her soil, her scent, her gracious people with their soft hearts and brilliant minds – they are rooted in my being I miss my home with its forests and fields, the babbling brooks and the deer. I miss my cherished family and my beloved friends. But when I return, India, too, will be calling.

And as we passed the shop where we bought fruit earlier in the day, I saw that all the produce and sweets were gone. The shopkeeper sat behind his counter in quiet contentment.