Orchha

28-Jan-2012

"Do you want some papaya?" Asked the teenage boy as I walked around the 16th century palace ruins in the countryside by the river Betwa in the town of Orchha, Madhya Pradesh, India. He looked sincere, and my stomach wanted papaya but I hadn't been able to find any at the market that day. "Sure," I said. "I would love some papaya."
"Come," he replied, and led me through the fields to his grandmother's hut. "Where are you from?" We walked under the papaya trees and he reached for a sickle to slice open the ripe fruit.
"I am from the America," I said.
"Your name?"
"Melissa. And yours?"
"Daven. This I love Orchha."
"Yes, Orchha is very beautiful. River Betwa, yes? Many birds - very beautiful."
"You swimming?"
"No, I no swimming."
"Oh, yes, very cold. Cold means tanda in Hindi."
"Cold not good for tourist swimming."
"But good for Indian."
"Yes."

Daven placed each slice of juicy orange fruit on a flat red brick. "Take!"
"Thank you," I said. It was delicious. Just what my stomach wanted. I ate the whole thing. Daven's little sister and cousin sliced open their own papaya and giggled merrily as they stole glances at me and took bites out of the orange flesh. I took out my camera and pointed to it, asking, "Photo?"
The girl, a feisty one by the feel of her energy, shook her head no.
"Okay," I said, and put my camera away.

Daven's grandmother was returning from the nearby Shiva temple (which was deserted except for a few wandering tourists and occasional devotees - just how I like a temple, quiet and peaceful). Now she brought mala flower garlands made from marigolds, fragrant incense, milk. and colorful paint to offer to the Shiva lingam, Ganesh statue, and cow statue in her garden. She had a sincerity and sweetness about her which I SO love to see in old women - it is the feeling of old age that is ripened in the truest sense, so that all of one's actions seem to be an offering to the Divine. After bathing the lingam, she dipped her forefinger in yellowish powder-paint and drew sacred symbols on it, then dabbed some on the other statues with tender artistry. Then she put flower garlands around each statue and even on some of the surrounding plants and offered rice to each in turn.

It was a beautiful sight to witness, and at the same time I felt ready to move on in my exploration of the river bank and palace ruins. "Is it okay if I go now?" I asked Daven.
"Yes, it is okay. I am coming? Or no coming?"
"You coming - yes, no - it's okay."
"Okay. See you later. Tomorrow you come my grandmother's house? We cook chapati?"
"Yes, I would love to come tomorrow and cook chapatis with you."
"What you like eating?"
"Me? Oh, everything. Rice, dal, chapati, vegetable."
"Potato? Tomato? Chili?"
"Yes, potato and tomato. But no chili. My stomach - no good."
"Oh, okay. You like dal fry?"
"Dal fry okay. Just little spice - no chili."
"Okay. Tomorrow you coming...what time?"
"Morning okay?"
"Yes, morning."
"8:30?"
"Yes, okay. Good."
"Okay, see you tomorrow."
"Bye bye."