The young ‘uns

It is the beginning of summer here, the humidity in the air is already unbearable, though the sea breeze sets in punctually at 3 every evening, bringing with it blessed relief from the heat of the day. And all those wonderful things associated with spring and summer… tiny things just beginning life… Color and life everywhere I see…

Flowers of all description in full bloom. Tiny bananas waiting to ripen, little green raw cashew soon to turn pink and plump, birds flying in and out of my vision in a flash of brilliant blue or yellow. Sounds that well, sound weird to my city ears – crickets at night, birds whistling and singing, and then the silence. The attenders and even doctors are now used to seeing me run (okay, walk really fast) behind a bird, gawk at flowers and go into raptures over exotic butterflies; startled looks have now given way to amused indulgent these city types smiles.

The Aryavaidyasala in Cochin – technically eight km from Aluva in semi-rural Kerala runs on rented premises belonging to the Shantigiri Ashram. The first thing they tell you when you come here is that they are building their own hospital and will shift there much within the end of the year. Working in a place that is not owned by them, the hospital administration has almost no control over food and other amenities provided by the ashram, a fact they are extremely apologetic about. For all that, the ayurvedic treatment here is the best one can get anywhere in the world.

The atmosphere at this campus is all about “wind-down” mode. No stress, no anxiety – the biggest deadline in my life is to ensure I do not miss mealtimes. I take long walks when possible, when it is cooler – the doctors advise as much rest as possible – and given that the treatment squeezes all energy out of a person, that is sound advice. Just outside the campus is this tiny stream? patch of water? along a narrow path that I discovered the first day – the sunlight passes through the tall trees, bent by the wind over many years, and falls on the water in a wonderful gleam of morningness.

In the mornings, I see kids walking to school, some of them waiting for the school bus along eith their mothers; while the younger ones just giggle at me, the older bolder ones practise their school english on me. Hullo! where going?. And in the evenings, it is time for the adults to meet and gossip – bunches of men sitting on the culverts, beedi in hand, lungis firmly above knee level, in strict accordance with prevailing dress codes. And the women, still in their nighties; again the older ones strike up conversation – where are you from? how many kids? where is husband? the questions flow in quick Malayalam that I barely manage to understand by picking up keywords.

[last minute homework]

And inside the campus, a total of eleven rooms and twenty or so residents – including spouses and children of people getting treated. Cut off from the real world, everyone is keen on being polite and friendly – ohmygod, this is the seventh time since morning I have smiled at this man from Malaysia and said hi. My favorite place inside the campus is this little hillock, perfectly called dhyanagiri – or the hill of meditation. Sitting here late in the evenings, watching the sun set, listening to the birds call it a day, life seems beautiful…