One of the most extraordinary things about the effulgent creativity and the omnipresent display of the pantheon in India is its unabashedly vulnerable nakedness about our deepest fears and desires (the ones we usually try so hard in the West to keep private).
If only it were so easy. Perhaps it is.
This vendor was right outside a Siva temple we visited on the day after we went to Rameshwaram. I don’t remember the name of the temple (I was not good about writing down the names of the temples that were added to the itinerary after the fact).
I liked the temple more than many. Partly because it was quiet and peaceful since it is off the pilgrimage path (going to some of the temples reminds me of seeing the Rolling Stones at Wembley Stadium, both for crowds and noise level) and partly because it had all eight versions of Dakshinamurti–Siva as teacher.
I was most ready for dinner after a very long day on the bus to detour to this temple, but alas, the sight of street food brings more fear of disease than it does thoughts of slaking hunger and thirst.
The Indian equivalent of the pony ride, is, not surprisingly, the elephant ride.
This elephant, who is now 37 years old, became the giver of rides for tourists and birthday parties after having been rescued from malnourishment and the back-breaking labor of years of hauling lumber. I was lucky enough to be able to get lots of hugging from her before people gathered for their rides. She especially liked to be scratched behind her ears.
Though the ride was rather tame–or perhaps because tame (i.e. gentle)–I rather enjoyed moving with this gracious being. A horse might now seem small (though likely feistier).
What do we look for, what do we see, when we come looking and to see another culture?
With one last visit at a Kali temple to say goodbye until next time.
