Options

I'm not worried that I've made the wrong decision but I am rethinking the events of the last couple of months and wondering at my own weirdness.

A couple of months ago, I was fed up with an almost impossible work situation and the confinement of village life. The consultant who hired me for this job was offering better paid work in the more sane surroundings of Nashik, several hours from Mumbai.

At first, I was ecstatic. It was a way out of this job without having to leave India. The climate down there is much better, Nashik is beautiful and relatively cosmopolitan and the job was to start with a training course in Beijing.

I'm not sure exactly how, but before I was to go and visit the school my feelings completely changed. The new job didn't look quite so great under close scrutiny. More than that, though, I just couldn't leave my desert village. Along with astonishing frustrations, there are some aspects of life I love here.

Actually, the frustrations and the joys often go hand in hand. The meat ban is a pain but I love the fellowship of being invited for secret chicken. The landscape is harsh and bleak but also enchanting. The sun is scorching but the sunrises and sunsets are magical. The small town mindset is infuriating but I love the gossip as much as anyone else.

And I'm way too attached to my students, who have worked really hard and improved amazingly. They're smart and lovely people and need help to catch up with the rest of India.

So it seems that I'm here for a while more and I'm determined to make the most of it. I'm accepting more invitations, doing more socialising and starting some side projects. I've grown a moustache and I'm contemplating gold earrings.

But let me show off and list what I turned down: double salary, a brand new 2-bedroom flat, the trip to Beijing, a location in India's wine region, Mumbai only 4 hours train ride away (instead of Delhi 11 hours on a bumpy bus) and the hint of an introduction to a Bollywood star who recently looked very impressive in a swimming costume. And this view:


I've taken the crazy option and I'm happy with it. I'm learning enough about myself to realise that whatever I do after this, it's going to be have to be equally, if not more insane.

A guru is born

There's a week long religious function going on in the house across the road. I know about it because the speaker on their roof points directly at my bedroom window. I've requested them to turn it around in the direction of the bazaar and bus stand where the idlers are obviously in greater need of instruction.


'Who've they got speaking?' I asked Shankar, my cook, as an off key hymn disturbed my lunch of aloo gobi. 'It's Raju' he said and I was surprised. Raju lives in the house across the road and is a 20 year old sometimes painter, sometimes magician, sometimes acrobat, seen below practising a balancing trick with a long pole.


'He's a guru?' I asked and Shankar replied 'Ban raha hai' which I shall translate as 'He's on the make'. Sure enough, I saw him in the street outside later with very fresh looking robes and a funky new hairdo and beard.

So there you go wannabe gurus. All you need to start is a set of speakers on your own roof and a captive audience of neighbours. I'm sure he's already claiming to have a foreign devotee.