As a trained theatrical stage manager, the worst thing to happen
is to be late for an appointment or meeting. I was late meeting
Lakshmi, the message therapist I was introduced to the day before
by the brother of a friend of hers who has a business close to
New Creation Recreation Center, where I am staying. In fact, I
had just dropped off my magnet belt for repair with a leather
worker, who I told I was coming back to be fitted for leather
sandals later in the afternoon, when I met Abbas on the street and
he said Lakshmi was indeed waiting for me. (I didn’t realize at
the time he was telling me I was late.)
I continued walking up
the road about a half mile to her place, (they call me The
Walking Man in the area because everyone else is riding on
bicycles and motor vehicles of some sort) and as soon as she saw
me she got off her chair and prepared to close her shop as we
were to go into Pondicherry (Pondicherí - the ex-French quarter).
We were going into Pondy – as it’s called in these parts, to see a doctor for me to have a physical and have medicine prescribed for me to internally begin a process to
help the external message. Hopefully all this, along with my
morning stretches will do good things for my long suffering
hamstring and thigh muscles.
Lakshmi, who is Tamil and native to
this area, is dark-skinned Indian, she is – as she pointed out
yesterday, when we met – as dark as me. As a matter of reference,
except for hair texture she could be African American or even
from the west coast of Africa: Senegal…the Gambia…Côte D’Ivoire…
At one point she even said I was the first Black American visitor
she had seen in a year.
There is only one African American (retired State Department
worker) living here. She has been here for 22 years.
She explained we were going to see a doctor right down the road
instead of in Pony.
We arrived at his place on the second floor where he was painting
a sign printed with what he does. I commented to the fact that he
had a great penmanship, and showed him a sample of my nearly
indecipherable handwriting - I didn’t go to Catholic School as my
younger sister did. He looked at the writing thoughtfully and
said; “Prophets have handwriting like this.” That got a big laugh
from me and, of course, made me instantly like him. We all went
inside his small office. He asked what ailed me and I told him
about the high blood pressure, allowing him to take a gander at
the diuretic pills the VA (Veteran’s Administration) gave me.
Told him about the spinal cord injury and the tingling in my
hands down through my feet – it always seems to be more
pronounced when I am in a medical situation – told him about the,
long-termed, extreme tightness from my calves to my buttocks (as
Forrest Gump would say), as well as the tightness in the front of
my thighs (do we call them quads?)
and lower back and stomach region, and the constipation. As he
finished taking my blood pressure – letting me know it was high –
I remembered to mention the touch of arthritis…and since I had
been through this before, told him I slept very well, had a good
appetite, and yes, the sexual function was fine. He asked me if I
was sure because he could give me something for sex (This was the
same thing the VA was pushing…must be really important to us
fellows). He asked me if I was sure because he could give me
something for sex. I assured him I was alright and certainly did
not want anything along those lines as I was a natural man and
didn’t take to chemical quick fixes. The doctor, who also teaches
natural medicine in Pondicherry, said; “Okay, but this is what
Europeans come to me for.” I said no, I was fine. What I didn’t
tell him was, strangely enough, the two areas of my body that
were unaffected by my spinal cord injury I sustained in July of
2002 was my head and my sexual organ.
He did the stethoscope thing to my chest and back and did some
squeezing of my fingers and bending back of my hands and took my
pulse in several places. We left Lakshmi and went behind his
office curtain where he had me lay down and felt my muscles and
bent my legs, asking if I felt any pain. I didn’t, and he was
finished with the exam. We went back to our original seats – me
next to Lakshmi…him, behind his desk. He began writing, and he
and Lakshmi talked back and forth in their native tongue of
Tamil. They actually seemed to be in a debate. Since the only
language I know is English (and a bit of Spanish), my head was
swiveling in one direction, then the other. The Doctor finished
writing, Lakshmi finished arguing and I asked how much the visit
costing. He looked at me, as if to size me up, and said 200
rupees, adding that he charged Europeans 500 rupees. Since 200Rs
is a little under 4 dollars US…I was happy to give it to him and
added another 50Rs, saying it was for the paint for the sign he was so expertly working on. The good doctor was more than very pleased with that and gave me all sorts of
blessings as he shook my hand vigorously.
We left on this very positive note, got back to Lakshmi’s shop,
which is also a beauty parlor for hair and facials. At the shop,
she told me what the arguing was about. The Doctor thought she
was only going to treat me with a vibrating/heating devise with
some ointment on it. She explained to me she wanted me healed and
she was going to do just that, or at least put me far enough
along – since I was only going to be there for a little less than
3 more weeks. She closed up shop for the day and we started
walking toward the main road that leads to Pondicherry. On the
way, a three wheeled motorized rickshaw-like looking vehicle
pulled up along side us. (This type taxis is a cheap and quick
way of getting around for short distances -under 5 miles I would
think, they are called Tempo.) The driver began negotiations with
Lakshmi, she however abruptly broke talks off and we continued
walking on. The driver beckoned us back and she signaled for me
to get in, I did, she did, and we were off to the busy city on a Saturday – midday to fill my prescription and do some shopping.
I had a list of things I needed:
Colander
A bowl
Cayenne pepper
Lemons
Laxative tea
Disposable lighter
Pocket knife
(I left my Swiss Army knife in Cape Town as I didn’t want to go
through an airport hassle. The knife has been with me ever since
I seriously started traveling in 1989. Of course the policy does
not make much sense since many airlines still use silverware that
includes a knife and fork.)
We got to town in fine fashion. Honking, and dodging animals,
people, all sorts of transports – bicycle riders, mope-headers,
motorcyclist, yak carts, automobiles, buses, trucks…and of course
the pot-holed road itself.
While Lakshmi was out of the Tempo, filling the medical order,
the diver asked me was she my wife. I laughed and said no. Later
when we had finished shopping and heading back to Auroville, the
driver evidently asked Lakshmi the same question in their
language. She translated to me his thoughts of us being a couple
because of our same height and similar complexion. She also
laughed at the thought, but I think her mind was occupied with
another thought. I think she was not over the fact of my age. A
fact she heard from one of the doctor’s questions to me. In her
mind I was around 30 years old. At 53, I would be older than her
parents, who she said were obese and suffered from a variety of
ailments, not unknown in the Black American community, such as
diabetes and heart disease. She is very concerned for them, in
that, she is an only child and at the age of 27 (I guessed her to
be 32), with 3 three children, was essentially the center of
their family structure – she has no husband. At a later point, she explained to me the meaning of the red dot she wears between her eyebrows was a sign that her
husband was not dead. Women in this culture who are widows
neither wear the dot nor adornments on their feet such as ankle
charms nor toe rings. Lakshmi can adorn herself for as long as
she does not marry and her partner does not die.
Lakshmi is physically very beautiful, highly intelligent, and
incredibly perceptive (re: intuitive). I witnessed her turning a
potential message customer away because, she told me after, he
wanted more than the message he was inquiring about. She runs a
small shop and does not overprice for her services, as some of
the other business concerns in the area – especially now in high
tourist season. I could not have been led to a better business to
support.
(In fact, I have been very lucky in this, as even my coming to
Auroville was by the suggestion of a very helpful and honest
young guide in Chenni/Medras.)
We learned later in the day that several tourists had been by,
but because the shop was closed, she lost their business for the
day.
The next day was 15 February 2004; it was her 28th life-day on
the planet. She says her name, Lakshmi, means MONEY in her
language.
If I could give Lakshmi a gift, it would be the gift of
prosperity in her business. Later when I was walking back to the
New Creation Recreation Center, I ran into Abbas again, and we
sipped tea, and I told him that I felt bad to engage Lakshmi the
entire day to the extent of her losing business. He said I should
not feel bad in that she had given her word the day before to
take this outing…and she does not regret fulfilling her promise.
Such a principled person deserves international support. If
anyone is in the town (rapidly becoming a city) of Auroville, you
can visit Lakshmi’s shop. Her sign reads:
Ayurvedic/herbal
Beauty Parlour
Ayurvedic Message
Ayurvedic – course center
It is on the main road to Auroville, off the big main road to
Pondicherry, next door to the
Sekthi Ganesh - Stone Cutters
And across from the sewing shop/Taylor who doesn’t have a sign.
(Well you know what they say: This is India!)