Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

^0 S E C O N D M O O N 06was time to fumble around in the dark trying to find a level patch ofground, then unpack the lantern and try to get some light going.One in every ten Indian matches will light when struck. The othersare there to wear out the striker and build up exasperation so that, asyou furiously scratch the lucky match against the side of the box, thehead flies off, sometimes igniting to land in your eye or burn a hole inyour sleeping bag. In case you get over that hurdle, the candles eitherlack wicks or are made of ill-burning wax. Occasionally, my grim,almost bloody-minded, resolve would raise a flame. By the Gandak, theriver breeze playfully snuffed that out.So the end of the day was hardly the mellow space in which to sortout personality conflicts. I was too tired out and saturated with dissatisfactionto want to do anything but sit there, with my Buddha imagesomewhere in the dark in front of me. Or lie down, feet stretched outto cool in the wind until it was all right. A night beside a great Indianriver, off the beaten track in the middle of nowhere, should have beenamazing. But, sitting quietly and opening to the way it is, it was in a waymore than that: despite the blisters and dullness and human jangle asconstant companions, everything was all right.N I C KNext morning we woke to find ourselves covered in heavy dew. Peoplewere coming off the ferry and we were able to follow them as theypushed their bicycles across the sand and through the grasslands. Oneman without a bicycle was dressed all in his best white. White baggylong cotton shirt hanging down and half covering his white cottondhoti. A dhoti is created afresh every morning from a long piece of lightcloth wrapped in a complex way that has always intrigued me, with thematerial passing a couple of times through the legs and giving the effecthalf of skirt, half trousers. Apparently the longer the piece of cloth, andso the more baggy and elaborate looking the assemblage, the better the1 1 2