Home From Home, Of Sorts..

On arriving in Tsomoriri  the driver and his cook immediately set about trying to find us accommodation.
They returned to the car looking just a little glum, worried that we might not be happy with what was on offer.

It was certainly basic:
no beds; just a mattress upon the floor.
But our experienced carers had wisely brought sleeping-bags, and a gas-fired stove.
While, fortunately for me, the room did have a sofa, of sorts, to sit on.

My life has been relatively privileged so it is no bad thing to experience the simpler life.
And on occasion, I have slept in even more modest style.

Despite the limitations, our cook produced an amazing supper.

But as far as the bathroom facilities were concerned,
a discreet veil of silence might be in order..

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The Wanderer Returns

“Sicut cervus desiderat“

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Picture taken in the Kerala backwaters of Cochin.

A Day Of Sunshine

Morning sun lights a home in New Zealand
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An Art Installation?

Or maybe just parts of Shaji’s bicycle-frame hanging in my yard,
and in the process of being repainted.
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A Returning

We have returned:
to workmen refurbishing the doors and wood panelling;
to stained glass windows, mask-taped and newspapered;
to fine coatings of wood-dust on floors and on furniture.

To Dalila and Shaji: their cooking and caring;
to the familiar;
to comfort;
to home.
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Home Before Nightfall

An often long and winding road..
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Picture taken in Chellanam, Kerala.

Back In The Driving Seat?

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After a very happy month in Britain: the country of my birth, childhood and entire working life;
I am now back at home.

I am back in India.
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Back to the charms of chaotic, but generally well-intentioned, transport and shopping.

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Back to riding pillion on my houseboy’s bike, whenever there are local errands to be run.

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Back to constant warmth and frequent sunshine, despite this being the monsoon season.

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Back to pretending I’m running the house.
When I know perfectly well that it’s my kind staff who keep this show on the road!

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In Transit

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I sit in the airport lounge.
Fragmented English memories of both failure and happiness now behind me.

The warmth, excitement and comforts of life in India await my return.

An apt metaphor of my life:

A life in transit.

A muezzin sounds its plaintive summons to prayer:

An invitation extended to all who travel light, or with heavy burdens.

My heart is touched.
But lies elsewhere.

Picture of the June sky taken in London. Those of the airport are taken from the Emirates transit lounge in Dubai.

Homeward Bound

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Our tour was over:
Ten days exploring the wondrous temples and palaces of Karnataka and Tamil Nadu.
We were now homeward bound.

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Our journey had spanned a small arc of the subcontinent, from the Arabian Sea to the Indian Ocean.

We had crossed the Western Ghats to watch wild elephants, then slowly ambled our way through the Deccan Plateau:
From modern beaches and ancient temples to British architectural fantasies and bland concrete hotels;
Bustling towns to ruined cities. 

We enjoyed meals in both grand restaurants and humble bamboo food-stalls.
Tea fuelled our road travels while cool beers soothed our evening stops.
We had explored and watched and wondered.
Our time spent in observation of people
At work, rest and at prayer.

Like life itself,
An amazing journey encompassing delight, despair and discovery.

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Reciprocity Of Sorts…

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Most often, I eat alone.

Shaji,  Dalila and Anu serve my food but prefer to wait until I have finished before they sit down to enjoy their meal.

Tuesday mornings are different.

Robin joins us and we all eat breakfast together.

Vegetable oothapams, Kerala Sambar, curry meen,

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This may be stretching the idea of  reciprocity.

Shaji went shopping for the ingredients. Anu helped prepare the vegetables. Dalila cooked the meal.

“Sir” was having his regular ayurvedic massage!

But if I had made breakfast

At the end of the meal, we would certainly not be looking at five empty plates.

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