Poop Industry, Scary Traffic and Ama, the Hugging Saint

Greetings this overcast day in India. The mosquitoes seek warmer weather. The cows continue to roam the streets, eat peoples’ plants, sleep in doorways and poop where they stand. This creates a cottage industry, for there are those who collect the poop, dry it in large field adjacent to the road, and you see the women (mostly) walking with pots of poop on their heads, as they transport this effective fuel to their homes to cook with. Now, if we in the west could find a good use for poop, we will have a major industry with unlimited product supply. I wonder if our cars could….never mind! 

Last Sunday, I went with Indira (Indian lady living in UK) and Robert from Latvia to see Ama, the hugging Saint. I have had the honor to see and receive hugs from Ama twice in the USA. Both times were in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Memorable experiences. When I was returning from Delhi/Akshardam Temple more than a week ago, I saw a sign with Ama’s picture. I enquired and was told Ama was to be here in a town 4 kilometers from Faridabad. And so we planned to go, and here is how it went. 

The taxi arrived at 5:30pm and we drove like a bat out of hell (normal). We could not find the place, drove into nowhere, potholes, no road, we held on for dear life. We survived. We reached the main road and shot off the nowhere/potholes section like Space Shuttle Challenger right into the flow of oncoming traffic driving towards us like maniacs (normal). The driver swerved and went the wrong way right into the traffic. Was I being tested here.

My gut wrench spontaneous movement brought my legs up and I held on, the driver went round some obstacle in the road, just as a cow decided to cross the same road right in front of us and stop. What now, brown cow? Are you a gonner? Swerving, tooting, all smiles (Indians do not get angry or threatening in cars. This is all normal.) We swerved again, going the right way this time on the correct side of the road.

We are still alive, so is the cow, although I felt something warm and liquidy in my pants. Oh! No! I have to go to an “outside” toilet. We arrive at the Ama location, the driver looking as fresh as a daisy. Not us! I rush off to the toilet. Oy Vey!! OK here goes…. The toilet was one of 4 located on a purpose made transporter, which hooked up to a truck and could be delivered anywhere.

I cautiously opened the door. It was dark and dank. There was a hole in the floor (you know, the footprint ceramic tray thingy), a tap and a jug. The place was wet with the use of the water, and this did not help me. I had paper, clever me, heh! heh! heh! Am I laughing too soon? Probably. I exposed that part of my anatomy to do what I had already done. Nowhere to hold onto. Handles would be good. No such luck. I balance, now I know why they do yoga here! I emerged in one piece, and the look of relief and gratitude raised much interest from Indian spectators.

I join my friends and we sit and wait. The place fills up with thousands of people. We wait, there is music, there are speeches in a language of Southern, Telugu, which most Hindi speakers do not understand. This is remarkable. Can you imagine having different languages in the US or UK, where you can speak to your own countryman/woman, who will not understand you? It does not matter, everybody loves Ama.

She arrives amidst the fanfare of musicians and drums. There are more speeches, we wait. Ama starts to sing Bhajans (?). It is fabulous. People get up and start dancing, some go into trance. Then we are informed to line up with our numbered tokens. Line up in India means a free for all on a magnifcent scale. My mother would have loved it. She was one of the last Jewish Mother Moguls before they broke the mold, who also did not believe in lining up, and she had her stick to help her. Who would retaliate, she was in her 8o’s, and she knew it. God Bless her.

The hugging started and soon it was our turn. Wonderful, Loving Ama, Universal Mother hugging her children. Then we were invited on the stage behind Ama, I know not why. There we were amidst the show. How wonderful it was. Finally we left and went to eat some Indian fast food. Great stuff.

That was Sunday night. I got home at 2am. The gate was locked and I climbed over the gate, reminding me of my misspent youth. I found my key, entered my room to be greeted by so many happy mozzies. I was tired, but I rallied and did battle, reducing the numbers of my erstwhile nemesis, and went to sleep. Another life in an Indian Day.

(See the post titled “Monday and the Movies” for the second part of this letter.)