Public Enemy #1..

..The One & Only Govinda Baba..

Like most kids growing up in the West, at some point during my childhood I desperately wanted a pet monkey. From cartoons to movies, advertisements to the much loathed Totally Wild, they all seem to present a single unified message; ‘Monkeys = Fun!’ So it’s no surprise that when you first start travelling in Asia and end up in a place like Banaras where monkeys are as ubiquitous as birds, it all feels a little bit magical!

They’re in the trees, clambering along the power lines, jumping from building to building and yes, occasionally you will be squatting in the bathroom only to look up and see them watching you through the window as you go about your ‘business.’

Illusions Of Bathroom Privacy

But there comes a time when the honeymoon period comes crashing to an end and you begin to realise that they are less like the bunch of smiling, fun loving, scat singing (King Louie style) creatures in the tv dreams you’d been sold in your youth, but in fact are much closer to a pack of savage wild dogs that are brazen enough to invade your home (as we discovered one day when we foolishly left the door unlocked), become highly territorial when in heat and most terrifyingly have the advantage of being able to climb - thus giving them the high ground advantage from which to attack you from. In hindsight, perhaps seeing the Wicked Witch of the West shriek “Fly my pretties, Fly!” should have tempered my childhood illusions with something much closer to the horrifying truth!

No better example of this can I think of than the day I was leading the first group Meditations of the 2012-13 season at the River Ashram. It was monsoon and still extremely hot and humid but most of our long term community members were back in town. We’d shut down the Ashram during the hot season and most of us had taken off to the foot hills of the Himalayas to escape the brutal daily temperature highs of between 45-49°C/113-120°F… it’s worse than it sounds.. and so the Ashram had been unoccupied for almost 4 months, or so we thought.

Being the first meditation for the season we expected only a small turnout and so by the time we reached 10 or so people I got the ball rolling and we began the session. I was leading an Aggredior Divina meditation (translated from Latin as ‘Approach (the) Divine’) in which we usually spend the first 10 or so minutes in silent contemplation on our surroundings - which on this morning proved particularly poignant as it wasn’t long into our silence that I began feeling the uneasy sensation of being watched.

I opened one eye and quietly scanned the courtyard. Nothing. Just our circle of sweet hairy travellers from the far reaches of the globe, now blissing out in the early morning heat. I closed my eye and continued to focus on the meditation.

Minutes later I again felt the sensation of being watched, but this time I could also hear its source; a sound I’d come to know all too well, Bundar (Hindi for ‘monkey’). I opened one eye and looked up where sure enough, in those braches high above our heads sat two juvenile Bundar, quizzically watching the goings on down below. As they were only young and so high up I closed my eye, tried to refocus myself and offered the next instruction to the group.

Minutes later I heard them again but this time the sound felt close, too close. I quickly opened my eyes and was startled to see that they had descended from the tree and were now perched directly above us in the shade cloth which hung only a meter or so above our heads. Not only that, but they had managed to pull the seams apart and were poking their heads through the mesh to get a better look at these hairy foreigners who were quietly sitting below. Being only youngsters I figured that they posed little threat to our group and so was happy to continue to the meditation, hoping that at the very least they would keep their distance and do so quietly – yet as with most things in Banaras, it wasn’t long before I realised I was wrong.

What would have proved helpful to know at that time was that in the previous months while the ashram grounds were vacated a wandering family of Bundar had stumbled into the perfect sanctuary to set up shop and raise their young. In the eyes of these newly acquired tenants, we had basically walked into their house, put our feet up on their coffee table and made ourselves at home. Cue the inevitable turf war.

A loud metallic twang rang out through the courtyard and this time I opened both eyes and there he was; the Alpha Male, standing tall and strong on top of the metal staircase, his scar covered face jousting towards us with fierce jolts whilst baring his teeth in a display of unbridled aggression. Worse than this, he’d brought backup. Along the wall behind him stood another 5 or so Bundar which began to follow his lead, and as I turned my head to check the surroundings I discovered a further 5 or so perched atop the wall behind me. We were the victims in a textbook pincer manoeuvre, and seconds later they began to descend.

I looked around our group and immediately noticed that every person who had lived in Banaras for more than a couple of years had their eyes open and was fully aware of the encroaching madness, yet every short term traveler (obviously still in the honeymoon phase) was still silent, still with closed eyes and crossed legs and blissfully unaware of what was about to transpire. I breathed deeply and spoke loud and clear “as I count backwards from 5, slowly open your eyes and feel your awareness returning to the circle.”

“5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 … NOW RUN!!”

In the shock and confusion of the following moments we scrambled to collect our possessions and retreat inside, yet the doorway closest to our group also happened to stand dangerously close to the striking range of the Alpha Male. Immediately Govinda Baba, our dearly loved 65 year old Canadian Sadhu, sprang into action. He grabbed the beautifully decorated talking stick from the centre of the circle, charged at the spiral staircase and like a crazed medieval knight wielding a broad sword swung wildly at the Alpha Male who dodged each blow with ever increasing hostility.

The Alpha Male growled at Govinda. Govinda growled back.

The Alpha Male lunged towards Govinda. Govinda thrust him back.

The Alpha Male tried again to advance. Govinda stood his ground.

As I shepherded the last traveller through the doorway and into safety I turned back to witness the sight of our white bearded, orange robed, tough as guts friend going full combat with an Alpha Male Bundar so that the rest of us dirty hippies could have safe passage. Having held back the encroaching tide of Bundar just long enough for us to clamber to safety he turned on he heals and hot footed it indoors with the rest of us – the pack of Bundar not far behind. We slammed the door shut, breathed in our safety, and burst into laughter. 

The sight of those blissfully unaware hippies, the throngs of invading Bundar descending from on high and dear ole Govinda Baba going toe to toe for twelve rounds with the Alpha Male will forever remain one of my most joyful, awe inspiring and lets face it, utterly ridiculous memories which to this day still causes me laugh out loud whenever it enters my mind.

So if you’re planning on travelling Asia any time soon and find yourself reading this and thinking “But monkeys aren’t really all that bad,” I’ll simply leave you with the advice that my ole boy Oody gave me when I was still fresh off the boat in Banaras;

“Just wait till you have your first bad experience with them… Just. You. Wait!”

The 'Best Of' Series..

..Our soon to be homeland..

As many of you already know, due to a totally unexpected turn of events our days calling the great city of Banaras ‘Home’ are soon coming to an end. This doesn’t mean that our traveling adventures are over, far from it, starting in less than 3 weeks we’ll be embarking on a whole new set of crazy adventures as we seek to establish a new home and a new life for ourselves in the mountains of Northern Thailand. That’s right.. we’ll be going back to square one in a new culture, in a new location, in a new community, in a new language.. my heart is beating faster just thinking about it!!

The necessity to move came as quite a shock and as with most unforeseen circumstances that result in loss, it causes you to step back and reflect on your life and your movements over the past years. One of the ways I’ve been processing this period has been to trawl back through the terabytes of photos I’ve amassed during our travels which has brought to mind a number of truly beautiful memories - some of which I’d all but forgotten. On more than one occasion I’ve found my heart aching in my chest and a strange salty liquid amassing in corner of my eyes as I’ve reminisced about the places, friendships and experiences that I’d expected to continue being regular features in my life but am now faced with the sad reality of soon having to say good bye to. Through processing all this joy mingled with sadness, it’s prompted me to start a month long series of post which will essentially be my “Best Of…” series which kicked off last week with post #1 – I Saw Your Nipples On The Balcony. They won’t necessarily be the greatest moments, or the worst, or even the most exciting, but when I let my mind and heart open up to reflect on these past years this series reflects those memories which I treasure most and seem to force their way to the front most often.

I hope you’ll enjoy catching a glimpse into the life and times of our little tribe over these past years as we go about wrapping up this truly wild and life changing chapter of our story.

I Saw Your Nipples On The Balcony..

Our Rootop

Our first home in Banaras was the ultimate hippy pad! It was once the servant's quarters for a rich family (the landlord would swear black and blue that it was previously owned by the King of Nepal) and was just two small rooms that were built on the rooftop of a 3 story building. It was hot, dark, cramped, had no privacy, no hot water, no silence, no shower, no way to keep the dirt out, a squat toilet, you had to walk through the landlord's house to get to the front door, it was infested with rats.. ok, so essentially it was a hovel, but it was our hovel, in the city we'd spent years dreaming about living in, and we loved it. It was close to everything, overlooked an ancient religious site that was potentially thousands of years old and had one of the most amazing views of the city! And out of all the mixture of memories we have from our time living in that most wonderful of homes, one most definitely stands out above the rest; our landlord.

His name is Tiwari Ji, but we affectionately just called him "Tooza." He would love to tell you just how important he was and would remind me on an almost weekly basis that Brahmin was not just the top caste, but a Super Caste! I'd find myself half expecting him to finish that sentence by busting out a cape that he'd been hiding under his Lungi! But he and his family were a truly wonderful way to introduce us into Banarsi life and culture and the following three episodes are some of my favourite memories from those early days in Banaras that will give you a taste of the learning curve that lay before me!

Bucket Bath Bliss

 

Episode 1 - Mawiage Is Wot Bwings Us Togever

One day I was walking up the stairs to the rooftop from where we could access our house. As I reached the top I saw our landlord and his twenty-five year old son crouched down in the middle of the balcony busily working away at something that I couldn't quiet see. As I crossed the floor I saw that they were huddled over a pot plant, some scissors, a few rolls of sparkling tinsel and some tape and were busily cutting up everything into smaller bits and pieces. I awkwardly Namaste'd them and proceeded to ask what they were up to and the Son replied that it was a special day because Tulsi was getting married and they were helping her to prepare. 

In my mind, I knew that Tooza only had two sons and that one of them was already married, and also knowing that in Banaras it's not really the done thing for men to have interaction with women who aren't direct relatives, so as far as I could see there was really only one explanation.

"Oh, how exciting! Is Tulsi your cousin?" I asked.

Both men immediately stopped what they were doing. The son's jaw gaped open and he looked sideways at me with that kind of expression that makes you feel like you've just said the stupidest thing in the history of mankind. Tooza rolled his eyes and turned his back on me. The son just began to shake his head.

After standing there for what felt like an eternity with the overwhelming feeling that I had unanimously been voted the biggest fool in the country, I tried again.

"So Tulsi's not your cousin?" I asked.

"No," the son replied. "Tulsi is the pot plant."  



(If like me you needed an explanation, try here)

...Home...

Episode 2 - The Illusion Of Privacy

It was very early one morning when Wild Flower asked me if I'd pop out to a local dukan ('shop') to pick up some milk as we had run dry and our fledgling Chai addiction was demanding to be placated. The sun had crossed the horizon yet still the grey tinged darkness refused to flee and so from out of our windows the world appear glum, wet and hazy. I grabbed a bag and made my way to our front door where I sat down and leaned back against it to put my boots on.

But the very moment my back touched the door something caught my ear! In an instant I was reefed out of the illusion of privacy, and sat motionless with the knowledge that I was not alone.. and I listened. The sound was close, very close, too close. And it was repetitive; just a soft sloshing, slapping, moist sound, right near my ears. On all fours I silently turned and faced the door, my nose just inches from the wood, and knew that someone, or something, was on the other side.

Out the window above I could see the awning which overhung the front of our house by a couple of feet but nothing else, and so slowly, very slowly, I raised myself up higher and set a trajectory for the window. 

As the crown of my head reached the lower limits of the window I held my breath. I was still new to this country, still confounded daily by almost everything I saw, still aware that I had no idea what that sound was and therefore absolutely anything could have been waiting for me on the other side. 

As my eyes finally crested the window sill I peered down into the chasm below, and there he was, in all his glory; dear ole Tooza! Our elderly, bald, bushy eared landlord, sitting in the only stream of sunlight that just so happened to be falling upon our front door step, wearing nothing but a loin cloth and rubbing cooking oil all over his body. 

The soft sloshing, slapping, moist sound proceeded to eminate from our doorstep for further 25minutes.. Suffice to say our stomachs went Chai free that morning.

...Sweet Home...

Episode 3 - I Saw Your Nipples On The Balcony

It had been a busy morning in the Thundersong household as we had a big day planned at the River Ashram and Wild Flower and I had spent most of the morning hurriedly going about getting everything prepared. Some things were coming together well (ie; the pots of amazing food Wild Flower was whipping up to dish out over lunch), other things however.. not so well (ie; the sterilizing of the rubber tops of Little Feather's drink bottles which were accidently forgotten about and left in a pot of boiling water, which when the water evaporated away left the rubber to simply melt in the pot, thus filling the house with the charming and toxic aroma of charred rubber. We literally had to put the melted remains on the other side of the building just to get away from the smell!).

At some point during the flurry we put the last touches on our preparations and were finally ready to go. I put on my backpack and grabbed the large pot of food, Wild Flower hoisted Little Feather up into her sling and together we began our decent into our landlord's house which we always had to walk through whenever we wanted to enter or exit our home. Now that might sound a strange set up, and it was, but after a while you do get a tad more used to having to always walk through someone's home and when you're in a rush instead focus on how to get away with the least amount of small talk possible. But there is glaring problem here; Tooza loves small talk!

Every morning he would race to greet us and the first words out of his mouth every.single.day. would be "I heard your babu crying X number of times last night" *head wobble.* Now if you're a parent I'm sure you can imagine how joyful it makes you feel when someone says such things to you. I would occasionally find myself replying quiet sarcastically that because our daughter was in the same bed as us that we heard her crying X+1 times, but mostly I would refrain and simply return the *head wobble* and ask how his day was going.

But something different happened on this morning. As I stepped off at the bottom of the stairs he raced to greet us in his usual way but this time he did not greet us with his usual story, this time he began with a question, a question which will forever be seared in recessess of my mind! He looked past me to Wild Flower who was only a couple stairs behind and said "No milk for Babu this morning? I saw your nipples on the balcony."

My jaw hit the floor. 

My eyes grew twice their normal size.

My brain exploded. 

As I stood there too dumbstruck to say anything Wild Flower reached the base of the stairs and stood beside me. Without missing a beat she calmly and matter-of-factly replied "Oh yes, I tried to clean them in boiling water... but I burnt them."

I grabbed at the handrail to steady myself from falling.

I tried to force out words; "Did you just..?! But he said..?! How can it..?! What the..?!?!" And for a moment it seemed most plausible that I'd fallen into an alternate universe in which this scenario was so common place that people could discuss it freely whilst being completely nonchalant about it.

But then it dawned on me; Little Feather's drink bottles! The rubber tops (or 'nipples' if you will) that we'd burnt and put outside to get away from the smell..


This moment still haunts me!



We may have moved a number of times since those days back in 2011, but our first home/hovel in India and our dearest Tooza, have captured a place in our hearts and left an indelible mark on our lives which we'll never forget! ...No matter how hard I might try!