The Art of Being Home

When I walked into my house after being away for two weeks, it felt devoid of life. There was a stale smell to the air, and all of the things I hadn’t had time to clean before I left stared me in the face.

It was a stark contrast to Geeta’s meticulously clean home in Mumbai, and it got me thinking about some of the things I’d learned from her during my short visit.

Every morning, Geeta gets up at 7 or 8 am and starts heating up the tea (and coffee for me, when I was there). While the milk is coming to a boil, she prepares fresh chapatti dough, and once it’s come together, she uses its 15-minute resting time to serve tea to her family and start cooking breakfast.

Her maid / helper Anita arrives at 8:30 and starts chopping the vegetables that will be used in the day’s meals. As soon as Geeta finishes cooking and distributing breakfast (omelets and toast), she moves on to preparing lunch. The pair work as a team, with Anita as sous chef and Geeta running the show. By 10 am, they have made fresh bread, two rounds of tea, breakfast and lunch, packed Sanjay’s tiffin (lunch box), and moved on to cleaning up.

The kitchen is put back in order first; then the entire house is swept and every inch of the floor cleaned with a rag pushed over it by hand. Laundry is also done by hand and hung out to dry, and the bathrooms are wiped down.

By 11 or noon, all of the housework is done. Everything is shined and spotless, and Geeta is ready for her bath. She bathes and dresses and only then does she do puja (devotional practice) to her gods by lighting a candle and saying her prayers. Now she can take rest (nap) or do her shopping – whatever suits her – but the core of her work for the day is done.

This happened every single day. In this order. Without fail.

I watched this process with intense admiration. I work from home, and by 10 am all I’ve usually managed to do is turn the coffee maker on and check my news feed. Watching Geeta manage her house was inspiring.

Halfway into my time there, she gave me a booklet called “Why do we…” that talked about the meanings behind various social and religious customs in India. One of the sections gave insight about why Indians have prayer rooms and the importance of maintaining one’s home, and I found it especially compelling based on what I observed of Geeta’s routine.

“The Lord is the owner of the entire creation. He is therefore the true owner of the house we live in too. The prayer room is the Master room of the house. We are the earthly occupants of His property. This notion rids us of false pride and possessiveness.

The ideal attitude to take is to regard the Lord as the true owner of our homes and ourselves as caretakers of His home. But if that is rather difficult, we could at least think of Him as a very welcome guest. Just as we would house an important guest in the best comfort, so too we facilitate the Lord’s presence in our homes by having a prayer room or alter, which is, at all times, kept clean and well-decorated.”

“Why do we…” by Swamini Vimalananda & Radhika Krishnakumar

I never did ask her if this was the specific motivation behind her daily routine, but given what I know of her, it stands to reason that it plays a part.

The more I thought about it, the more sense this made. So much of my mental capacity is taken up with what I need to get done each day, and when I meditate, I am constantly assailed by running lists of things I still need to do. Geeta cuts that mental list down with brutal efficiency by front-loading all of her household tasks in the morning – an offering to herself and her god all in one.

Think about it… How much easier would it be to cook healthy meals each day if all of your chopping and prep work was done while you were waiting for your coffee to heat up? How much less would you have on your mind if your entire house was cleaned and in order before you endeavored to start anything else?

I was inspired to find out. Of course, I don’t have a maid, and I need to start work before noon, but there are ways I can implement this style of household management that I think would be effective for me.  Add in a government-imposed quarantine and the threat of severe illness if I leave my house, and I suddenly have a LOT of time to figure this out!

So here I go. I am going to start with a deep-clean of my house. Attic to basement, top to tail, tip to stern. Once that’s done, I’ll start playing with a maintenance schedule that allows me to do a little bit each day to keep it clean.

I’ve been thinking of how beautiful it would be to use this social isolation to do all of the things around the house that we put off or “don’t have time for” – to create our own little slices of heaven in the place where we live, and when we’re not working on that, to read, paint, play music, enrich our spirits knowing that we have given our best – to ourselves and to God / the Universe / the places we call home.

And when this all blows over, we should all go around visiting. It’ll be warmer then. And with the dual darkness of winter and fear having passed, we’ll open the windows to let the spring air in. We’ll open our houses to our loved ones, make slow food and fresh pastries and share this offering with them.

I think that sounds nice. I’ll see you in the Spring.

So much to learn…

Geeta is an astoundingly good cook. When I met her husband, he unabashedly admitted he married her because of her cooking. My man, I completely understand.

Every single day, she makes a dish that I proclaim to be my new favorite. Honestly, it defies description. I stand in her kitchen and watch as delightful dishes take shape in her hands, one after another, and she never seems to run out of ideas.

In keeping with her character, she has been incredibly generous in sharing her knowledge, and I feel blessed beyond measure that she is willing to teach me. I take video, but I need to start taking notes. Here she’s making aloo paratha (bread stuffed with potatoes) and coconut-based chutney.

10/10. Five Stars. Highly recommend.

 
 
 
 
 
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Hanuman: Man’s Man

Yesterday, as we were walking a lap around Shivaji Park, Geeta’s son, Aditya, pointed out the statues and carvings of Hanuman (the monkey god) on the façade of every gym. “Patron god of Bodybuilders.” Monkey strength. Makes sense!
 
But TODAY, I learned something even better! As we were driving through town, I noted a temple dedicated to Hanuman. “Ah, yes,” Aditya said, “Patron God of Bachelors.”
 
“Oh, is that so? I had never heard that…” 
 
“It’s true; Hanuman never married, so he is the god of bachelors.” He continued mildly, “It is said that any woman who prays to him with a request, he will listen to her first so she won’t come back.”
 
Wait, WHAT?! LMAOO
 
“Yes, it’s true. He helps her because if she gets what she wants she will go away and stop bothering him.”
 
AAAHHH!!! That is awesome!!!!
 
Hanuman, god of “FINE! I’ll do it. Just stop talkinnnnnng!!!”

Lost in Translation

This morning I tried to ask the maid if she needed me to move as she was sweeping the room. As I have done in Bangkok, Santo Domingo, and Marseille, I used Google Translate to do the communicating for me. Selecting Hindi as the language, I typed in “Do you need me to move?”
 
When I showed her the question, she looked desperately confused. She called her mistress in to help. As it turns out, the Hindi language Google Translate uses is what they call “pure” Hindi – which contains some Sanskrit – and most Indians do not understand it. Even Geeta had to go back to the English to understand what it was I was asking.
 
She explained that only pandits and temple priests learn this form of the language, because it is so difficult. Instead, there is a more simplified version of Hindi that most people speak (which also varies from east to west India). If that weren’t enough complexity, each state also has its own dialect specific people who live there. Here in Maharashtra, the local language is Marathi. In Gujarat, they speak Gujarati, etc.
 
I can guarantee I’m oversimplifying this explanation, because this is literally the first I’m hearing of it, but it gives you an idea of the depth of the language and the breadth of its ability to morph to local needs and uses across the subcontinent.
 
This morphology can cause problems in interstate marriages because when a bride moves into her husband’s house, her new inlaws are likely to speak a dialect that is completely alien to her. She will have no idea what they are saying to or about her, and that can be dangerous when you are dependent upon their goodwill for your survival.
 
When I googled the translation of my question into Marathi, I was struck by just how different the two sentences are. No wonder no one knew what I was trying to say!
 
India continues to prove herself to be as multi-faceted and diverse as every writer and philosopher has ever said it is: each petal of the lotus revealing still more nuance.

Sacred Cows of Mumbai

Today I saw my first urban cow. Every travel program I’ve ever seen about India has made mention of the ubiquity of free-roaming cattle. Whether it’s a small village in Uttar Pradesh or a bustling metropolis like Mumbai, the novelty of unattended cows against the backdrop of modern life grabs the western imagination.

In Mumbai, all of the cows I saw were very much attended to. In fact, all of the cows I saw in the city limits were tied up, not roaming loose.

I asked about this.

Geeta’s daughter, Reshma, told me that temple attendants tie the cows outside the temple entrances, and devotees pay money to feed them as an act of worship.

It’s not that they are worshipping the cows, it should be understood, rather it is believed that by paying homage to the cow you are worshipping or praying to 1,000 deities – because the cow is sacred to all of them.

In this way, the cow becomes a conduit – a pathway for devotion to travel from the devout to the divine. And the cows don’t seem to mind.

Don’t Mess with Geeta

Today we visited the church of St. Michael. While we were looking at the frescoes, one of the locals took an obvious interest in me. Her motives weren’t clear – to me at least, but what was clear was her desire to say something to me. She locked eyes on me and approached. She didn’t get far.
 
When Geeta noticed her advancing toward me, she put her arm across in front of me like a barrier. The woman tested the seriousness of this by taking one further step in my direction. That’s when I saw the most amazing thing I’ll see all day.
 
That step had only just touched the tile when Geeta snaked her neck in this lady’s direction and glared at this woman with a look that said “mothafucka try it” as good as Samuel L. Jackson could do it. It was the type of look that PROMISED there was a slap coming next. Not a word was spoken, but the message was received loud and clear: “HOE, I WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN IN THE HOUSE OF GOD. WATCH.” I have never seen someone turn around so fast.
 
I was stunned! I wanted to know who that lady was, why she was staring at me, what did she want?? Geeta gave no further thought or comment. Instead she continued her lesson about the history of the church and its murals as if nothing had happened. Cuz when you’re a bad bitch, you don’t need to say a damn thing.
 

India, Day 1: continued…

Geeta prepared homemade chapati, dal (lentil soup), rice, and bhindi* for lunch. She brings all of it in from the kitchen sits me down to eat.
 
Geeta: [telling me stories]
Me: [listening to her]
Geeta: [alarmed] but why are you not eating?!! Eat now!
Me: ope! [ eats ]
Geeta: Now you take rest.
Me: [thinking: It’s 10:30 am! I’m not even tired!] Um?
Geeta: [insistent] You rest.
Me: [sleeps for SEVEN HOURS] ack… I guess I was tired?
Geeta: Good. You eat now.
 
—————————————————————————————————————
 
I have never been so clearly understood in my life: eat, sleep, eat again!
 
So far: best trip ever.
 
*Bhindi is the Hindi word for okra—not to be confused with bindi, which is a mark worn on the forehead

The Queen in Her Castle…

My host, my friend, my adoptive family, Geeta, oversees her maid, Anita (right) on the preparation of breakfast.

Geeta is the consummate household manager. Each morning, she arises before her family to start the day’s cooking and cleaning. By 8 am, she has prepared chapati dough and hot tea, and has made inroads to preparing breakfast and lunch for everyone in the house. 

I stand in the kitchen doorway and admire her efficiency — and try to stay out of the way!

Mumbai, Here I come…

Here’s something I’ve never seen on a plane yet: stewardesses marching up and down the aisles spraying the cabin with insecticide. We were assured via announcement that this is required by regulation and poses no danger to our health. …. …… ….. huh! Welp. We’re all strapped in now. One more 9 hour flight between me and Mumbai – Let’s do this.