The teacher appears...
before the student knows she is ready.
I am in your clay. You are in my clay. You and I Have so much love That it Burns like a fire. ~ I am in your clay by Kuan Tao-Shen
It was summer 2015, when I met him. Let’s call him the Teacher.
We were by a beach in Kerala, Southern India, home to my parents and ancestors.
The ocean rumbled behind us, crows swooped down to gather crabs awash on the shore. The coconut palms rustled like heavy wedding brocade.
Mutual acquaintances introduced us. I raised my hands together in a polite ‘namaste’.
The unwritten social protocol, for a single Indian man meeting a married woman is a namaste back. Instead, he leaned over and offered his hand in a hand shake.
There were several people including family members around us. Traditionally raised Indian men from small towns do not offer to touch married women.
Before I knew it our hands had found each other, in a grip of remembrance.
What I recalled in that moment I cannot tell you yet. But it was shocking enough for me to examine his face, his eyes.
All I saw there was a sad old man’s face, grieving, remorseful eyes not able to meet mine. Like a hologram, the old man’s face projected in front of the Teacher’s face. So much that I couldn’t see the features of the young man in front of me.
I had only landed in Kerala a few days ago and had never known Jet lag to cause optical illusions. I shook my head, as if there was something caught in my ears, to make the hologram disappear.
But no, it persisted.
As long as I looked, the old man looked at me with sad downcast eyes.
I exchanged pleasantries and hurried back to the beach side cottage I had rented for my vacation.
Relieved to find my family away, I shut the door, leaned against it, and shivered.
Was I going crazy? Was I was losing my grip on sanity?
The next morning, before anyone could join me, I dressed up and went to the restaurant. I had tossed and turned all night.
The summer monsoons had pelted the brick paths clean. They gleamed bright with the first rays of the morning sun. Scarlet Ixora blossoms bobbed as the rain drops showered from the coconut fronds.
I wanted to be left alone. I found a corner seat and sat away from everyone else, focused on the steaming cup of chai in front me. Gripping the brown mug with shaking fingers, I took a sip.
The first hot gulp of ginger chai revived me somewhat.
My thoughts kept dragging back to the strange illusion. I could not shake off the restlessness that had ensued since. What did all this mean?
I was cold, unsettled, bleary eyed and then a sweetness began to enter my body.
It was as if an invisible hand had begun to stir honey into my body.
In spite of myself, I smiled.
I turned around and looked back. My eyes went past the misted windows of the restaurant, the coconut palms, to the path lined by the Ixora shrubs.
It was him!
Even before we could see each other's faces, we knew we were smiling at each other.
Time stood still and then accelerated.
In an instant, he was by my side, asking me if I had slept well.
This time I saw his kind, Mahogany face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with joy. I was not sure I even knew his name.
And that is how the teacher entered my life.
Ginger Chai
Prep Time : 2 mins
Cook Time : 10 mins
Serves : 4
Ingredients:
Organic Milk or Dairy free milk - 1 cup, steamed
Water - 4 cups
Assam Black/ Ceylon - 3-4 sachets or 2 teaspoons loose tea
Ginger - 2 inch thick knob
Method:
Heat the water till it comes to a boil.
Add ginger and simmer for 5 minutes.
Drop the tea, close the lid and let it steep for 2-3 minutes.
Add the steaming hot milk, stir well and take off the fire, do not boil again.
Strain and serve with brown sugar to sweeten.
p:s ~ From immunity to indigestion, to inflammation, reach for a little Ginger root. Steep into a tea with or without tea leaves and allow Ginger to do her magic.
Ginger opens up the ‘rasa vaha strotas’, the subtle channels that carry nutrition from one tissue to another. Modern science knows Ginger is a vasodilator. For Ayurveda Ginger is ‘sarva bhaishajya’ ~Sanskrit for cosmic healer.
Many years later the teacher would gently teach me how to pronounce ‘sarva bhaishajya’. I was learning to speak my mother tongue Malayalam from our conversations. Anything he taught me, I only had to hear once, and it would become imprinted on my mind forever.
Always have Ginger in your pantry, a day without Ginger is a day less lived, less loved.
Next week: Shiva meets Shakti (and no its not what you think :-))
Ixora grow in plenty in Kerala, the edible flowers make a soothing tea to relieve gastric pain.