A Day With A Hindu Man

Some people rarely leave their comfort zone. My friend, Gypsy Meadows, is not one of these. Here is what she wrote:

I spent a day with a Hindu man and learned much from him. He works for an airline and is intelligent and good looking. Even more, he is caring, which is why I happened to spend a day with him. I missed a flight and was waiting for the duty manager to receive a certificate which acknowledged the lateness of the arrival of one flight, so I wouldn’t have to pay a high fee for rebooking my connecting flight. By 2am, I got tired of waiting and lay down on the couch and fell asleep. A customer service person from the airline saw what he thought was a young girl sleeping in the office lounge and decided he must do something to help. He woke me up, provided water for me, helped me obtain the needed paperwork and offered to help me find a hotel. The only hotel he knew was a five star, which he called and there was a room available but I didn’t want to pay that much, so he said if I was willing to wait until he got off his shift in a few hours, he would help me find a safe place to stay. He said I was welcome to sleep at his flat which he shared with his brother, or he would try to find a safe, cheap hotel.

Since I don’t know the city of Delhi and it was the middle of the night, I waited in the lounge and did some work until he got off. While waiting, I checked tripadvisor.com and found the name of two very cheap hotels that other travelers have recommended. When Brajish got off, I told him it would be better for me to stay in a hotel than at his home, so he helped me get a pre-aid cab, and even pulled out his wallet to pay for it but I intervened. He put me in the taxi to the hotel and told the driver to take care of me. We exchanged phone numbers and committed to meet for a late lunch after we both got some sleep.

He texted me six hours later asking if I had gotten sleep and would like to meet for lunch. He met me at the hotel at 3. I asked how long it took him to get from his home to the hotel – one and a half hours. He hired a rickshaw, the kind that is powered by a human on a bicycle with a carriage attached. He said he lied to his mother for the first time, telling her he had training to attend at work, rather than endure her wrath that he was spending the day with a woman. Apparently he comes from a very traditional family. I had to type his name into my phone and discretely refer to it occasionally as I could not remember his name no matter how hard I tried.

We arrived at the metro station and took a subway car to the Delhi circle. He purchased my train ticket and guided me through each turnstile and electric door as if he was afraid I was a china doll that would break. In the station he purchased is both an ice cream cone. He tried the ‘Special’ which is a daily surprise. It looked like a mix of several flavors swirled together. Then he guided me up into the market area which was filled with stalls of inexpensive clothing and bangles, nothing touristy, just everyday bargains for Delhians. There was nothing that I wanted or needed and so we walked and talked and I asked him many questions.

His father died three years ago of an unexpected heart attack. He was a postal worker so his mother survivors on the pension, although his older brother lives with her and helps her out. He was in love with a girl a few years ago, but her parents married her off to another man. He said he is over it now. He said children treat their parents as gods, whatever t parent says, goes. Are you or your brother promised to anyone? No, he smiles. When men and women work together, do they fall in love and have trouble with their families? Mostly, people have short relationships where they have fun, and then move on. It’s not serious. The women like to have a guy to spend his money. It used to be the other way around, but now it is the opposite.

He gets to fly for free sometimes with the airline he works for, so he is going to Bangkok next month, the first time leaving the country. He and three friends will spend four days there buying electronics, going to the beach, doing whatever. He is mostly saving his money right now in his life. Americans spend their money and have mortgages and credit, right? Yes, I said. They don’t save. But now is a good time for you to travel and see the world, and some day you’ll have a family that you will need to support. He smiles again.

He walks with his arm touching mine, always attentive and careful, like I am his mother, or girlfriend or sister. Only his friend from work knows he is spending the day with me. He has never done this before, actually spent time with a stranded traveler. He loves to help people, which is why he likes his job.

He asks if I would like to see the temple nearby. I start to ask him about his faith. Most families choose one or a couple of gods to worship, he says. There are maybe twenty thousand gods. What god does he worship, I ask? He likes to worship the main god, [I don’t remember the name] the one who created all the other gods. He doesn’t really like to worship the other gods, although he does worship the bachelor god, which is at the temple we have now reached. Tuesday is the normal day to worship this god, so today is not so crowded. He asks if I would like to go in. I say that I cannot worship the god, but I would like to watch him if that is ok. He says sure.

I ask him about the vendors outside. One vendor sells flower leis, which are bought to give to the god, and to wear by the worshipper. Do I want one? No, I have received many while in India. We take off our shoes and leave them with two men who collect fees for watching the shoes. Then Aakash washes his hands, arms and face at a public basin. He buys some fired lentils of some sort in a paper bag and begins to ascend the temple steps. Is it alright if I walk on this side, I ask? Not sure if there is a men and women’s side. Come, follow me, he smiles.

At the top of the steps he hits a bell and it rings loudly. Why do you ring the bell? It tells the god I am here. He approaches a marble table where a priest stands behind, taking the offerings from the worshippers and giving them to the god. Aakash. He gesticulates in a manner similar to the catholic crossing of oneself, gives his food offering to the priest who presents it to the god of bachelorhood, then returns it to Aakash with a red flower tucked in the paper. What do you do with that? I can put the flower at my home altar and share the food with friends. Remember the girl who gave you the snacks at the airport? I remember now, when I was sleeping, when he first approached me, there was a girl with him who offered me some white puffed rice and other seeds to eat. Feeling groggy from sleep, I asked him several times if I was supposed to eat it, and he said yes, she had just come back from Pune worshipping her god, and now she shares the snack with her friends. I begin to visualize the words of the New Testament, wondering if I had defiled my own faith by eating the snack.

After his offering to the priest, the priest touched his forehead with a powder, leaving a yellow smudge between his eyebrows. Now I understand all the people I see with the dot. It means they have visited the temple of their god that day. Later in the airport, I realize how many people have taken the time to visit the temple before travelling, receiving a blessing for them and even their small children.

Next he approached several other god statues, ringing a bell each time to announce his arrival. There is a woman with her head bent on the bench before the god, beseeching it for some desperate prayer. Other worshippers lay on the marble floor before the gods looking like they have not moved in a long time and plan to remain hours more. Aakash’s actions before each god are reverent and affectionate. He strokes a cow god and kisses it behind the ear, whispering something. He touches each pillar as he walks around the square shrine of the main god. As he exits the temple, patiently answering all my questions, he walks backward down the stairs, touching each stair as he leaves.

We retrieve our shoes, Aakash paying the shoe keeper a few rupees. Then he begins to distribute a small handful of the puffed snack to the poor sitting outside the temple. He gives some also to me, but this time I decide I can’t eat it. I slip it into my purse, not wanting to make this moment about me and what I believe by having to explain why I cannot eat it. When he gives some kernels to an old woman, she tells him she would like some milk for her family and leads him to a dairy shop, where he purchases a carton of milk for her. She had asked for two cartons but he said one is enough. As she receives her milk and walks away, I ask, did she say thank you? No. No she didn’t

As we walk through an overpass where many homeless sleep, we approach shops selling high end items and he explains the significance of the saris hung in the window unique to the region. How do you tell the difference between saris form this region? They are made of a different cloth, he says, like fine linen. So many things I have passed by and not understood about this culture.

As we approach a number of wooden benches he asks if I would like to have my hand painted. I would love to! A woman grabs my hand and begins to show me in a cheap photo album the different styles I can choose from. Many are elaborate and cover both sides of the hands, arms, feet and ankles. Just something very simple, I say. She begins to draw on my hand with what looks like a pastry cone, scrolling a beautifully detailed design freehand with a brown past that turns to dark chocolate as it dries. What is it made out of? Aakash asks the woman in her language and she points to the nearby trees. It is made from the leaves of the tree, he says. For fifty rupees, I walk away with a piece of art on my right hand. The paste is left on until it is dry and hardens and then is easily flaked off, leaving a stain from the leaf juice.

We pass a street vendor and Aakash asks if I am hungry. He is vegetarian, and we are offered a puff pastry that is hollow inside, a hole made in the top and filled with a broth like soup with some vegetables. The first time I try to pick it up, I break it. Aakash laughs and says just drink it. Then I watch him eat it successfully, popping the whole thing in his mouth at once. The soup is cold, and it is not too spicy. I eat several, but decline the final cup of broth, which Aakash drinks for both of us, saying it is good for digestion.

Finally he finds me a McDonalds, which I didn’t know he was looking for. Since he said he would not eat anything there, I suggest we go to a coffee shop instead. Now I begin to ask him about his bracelet, does it have any meaning? His, his nephew gave it to him and so it is very lucky for him. There are a few Hindi letters engraved into the silver. What about the strings wrapped around his wrist? These come from a ceremony that is done when a family moves into a new home. The strings are wrapped around the wrist afterward. I begin to realize that almost everything in his life has some spiritual significance; nothing is by chance for simply for decoration. He tells me Indians wear gold because it gives them luck. Later he describes our meeting in the airport as fate.

It was a very relaxing day for me, never tense when the silence stretched a bit long. He was happy that I was happy, and I enjoyed his openness to my questions. I feel I have been missing so much about India by not hearing its interpretation from a Hindu. A young man who believes his generation will make great change in a society that is at odds with itself between the new generation and the old. He wants his children to be able to make choices and thinks that those of his age will also have that same desire. It will be fascinating to watch India’s evolution in the next thirty years.

I had no trouble at the airport that evening. In fact, it seemed as if everyone was especially helpful and their smiles were a bit bigger than normal. I wasn’t sure if it was coincidence, or if my young Aakash had worked his magic once again.

Note: Aakash’s real name has been changed to protect him from his mother’s wrath.