Yesterday during my cooking lesson, I had the bizarre thought that Indian Twister would be an advanced hatha yoga practice: the entire game would be one-armed handstands! Right hand yellow.... right hand blue.... right hand yellow... right hand red....
Why one-armed handstands, you ask? Because in India it is impolite-- offensive, actually-- to use your left hand or to touch things with your feet. Your left hand is reserved for dirty tasks, such as removing shoes and bathroom functions (sorry, I know most literature and films leave out such details, but here in the real world, particularly the developing world, it is an unavoidable part of life). Feet are literally dirty (they touch the ground) and energetically dirty (that's where energy exits the body). That's why the feet of saints and swamis are venerated; they are pure beings and so the energy that exits their feet is also pure.
Shoes, considered even dirtier than feet, are removed before entering almost any building: definitely a home but some shops as well. The entire waitstaff at my favorite little restaurant in Mumbai ran around barefoot. Most of the rickshaws drivers in Mumbai were barefoot as well. Everyone here wears sandals that they slide in and out of effortlessly. I am traveling with two pairs of shoes: my hiking boots and sturdy sandals that velcro (a friend once called them "sandals you could climb Everest in"), but yesterday I invested in a 75 rupee pair of flip-flops. I felt like I was being a bit wasteful (I have a perfectly good pair of sandals!), but I was going crazy bending over 100 times a day to do and undo my sandal straps.
Yesterday my other Kathakali teacher, Kesavan (that's one of the 1008 names of Krishna, and yes, he knows all 1008), chastised me because I reached out my left hand to take some papers from him. I've also seen children at the temples rebuked by their parents because they reach out with their left hand to accept prasad, food that has been blessed by the guru or deity. The day before Kesavan scolded me because I put my foot on my notebook. I got to class early and was sitting on the floor studying. I was in my usual position, one leg bent under and the other knee pulled up to my chest. He came in and turned on the fan; the gale force winds sent my papers flying, so I used my conveniently located toes to hold them down.
"Your notebook is god! It is Saraswati! You know? Wife of Brahma! Your book holds knowledge. She is the goddess of knowledge. You must treat all knowledge, all books, all papers with respect: as a god! Mata, pita, guru, deva*! Mother, father, teacher, god! Treat them all with the same respect!" (*Sanskrit)
Practically all food in India is eaten with your fingers, right-hand only, of course. And not just what we think of finger food: rice, curries, salad are consumed sans silverware. I enjoy eating with my hands, but it takes some practice. Indian people are skilled at it: they can form a graceful scoop with their fingers that I can't quite seem to get. I swear their hand actually takes on a different shape.
Here at the centre we eat meals off of banana leaves instead of plates. There are cups for drinks, and bowls and spoons for soup and ice cream. Our meals are served to us, which still makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. It feels different than having a waiter at a restaurant, I guess because we know the staff and they are so friendly, it's weird having them jump at our every need. But we do wash our own dishes after the meal, so I feel better about that. It's pretty easy: no plates! Banana leaves into the compost bucket and dishes get soaped, rinsed, dunked in disinfectant, and rinsed again.
I reread a few of my posts just now. I apologize for the typos and some awkward wording. I do wish I had time to proofread and edit, but I'm favoring writing new posts with my limited online time....
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4 comments:
OK I have questions, are there no left handed writers there? how about when they dance, left arm to your side? Rickshaw drivers only steer with one hand? And how do drivers talk on cells phones and drive at the same time? I think all the Lefties of the world should unite. signed
your friend
Sparky
Hey Bri. how are you? I love reading your blog. What's new at the center these days? Just out of curiosity, why did you write that you feel strange to be served by the people at the center?
I also love the post where you recommend not making decisions laying down. I believe that tidbit!
Giulia
Hi Sparky-- good questions! I asked my cooking teacher the same thing: are there no left-handed people here? Turns out her husband is left-handed and so is her father! I guess they are just ambidextrous. There are certain things you can do with your left hand, like holding a dish while you serve with a spoon. Just don't eat with it (remember you eat with your fingers here!) or touch other people or use it to pick up important objects. I haven't seen too many drivers on cell phones here, although I did see a man driving a motor scooter and talking on one....
Giulia, also a good question. I said that because they are so attentive I don't just like I'm being waited on, it felt like I had a servant. To have someone attending your every whim at every meal feels a bit extravagant? Ridiculous? Like, I can serve my own food? The staff here is so friendly, and it's not like a one-time visit to a restaurant- I'm here almost a month. I don't want them to seem like they are serving me... I also had to get used to the amount of attention you get when you go shopping. You may have two or three or five people following you around helping you....
Ok. I understand a bit better now. My first reaction is to think that as long as the attention is part of some kind of give/get (ie. I pay you for the fact that you wait on me, as is the case in any restaurant I've been to) then the attention itself is not problematic. On the otherhand overly solicitous attention from people whom you are also close to and who feel like family can also be problematic because I would imagine the effect would be stifling. Personally, I would love to have a servant...a very very very well paid servant. If you would like the experience of sitting down in a restaurant (or other establishment) paying through the nose and being ignored so completely that you might have to wait upwards of an hour to get the check, try going out to eat in Holland.
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