The city of Mathura is located on the banks of the river Yamuna and is located about 145 kilometers south-east of Delhi in the state Uttar Pradesh. Hundreds and thousands of devotees visit the city every year because it is believed to be the birth place of Krishna – one of Lord Vishnu’s reincarnations and a central figure in the Bhagavat Gita, the sacred text of Hinduism. It is a part of the longest epic in the world, the Mahabharata, which consists of more than 150 000 verses. It is believed to have existed in the form of stories about gods, kings and sages, remembered and performed by talented poets and bards in the middle of the first millennium B.C. Later on, these myths and legends were modified and perfected, unified and fixed in writing by professional story-tellers and intellectuals, and became popular in India as well as in other countries through theatrical performances due to the general support of kings and rich patrons of the arts. The epic’s narrative is about the life and struggles between two royal dynasties, which eventually face each other in a colossal battle. Right before it starts, the best warrior Arjuna has moral qualms about going against his cousins, relatives and teachers filed against his army on the other side. Krishna appears as his charioteer to remind him that he was born as a kshatriya, the class of the warriors, and to advise him about his dharma, or his duty, by teaching him fundamental principles, meditation and knowledge, the impermanence of the body, eternity of the soul, the illusion of death and the temporariness of the material world. A heroic act is not measured with physical effort and power, but with the constant following of dharma, which entails sacrifices, unbending discipline, and unwavering devotion to god. At the end, Krishna reveals to his disciple his divine essence. This particular episode of the Mahabharata is the Bhagavat Gita itself23.
I remember seeing a really old manuscript in the house of two doctors in Mathura. It was a family relic that they kept on a special pedestal table in a glass box. Sometimes scholars would pick it up for research or for special exhibitions. I was lucky to be able to see this remarkable object up close. They offered me white cotton gloves to open the box and examine it even further, but I thought that I shouldn’t touch this sacral object.
I visited the married couple to interview them for a project and this remarkable relic was an addition to my growing conviction that every single experience here is entirely unpredictable, but always extremely rewarding. Their mansion was in the middle of a two-acre-big English garden fenced around with white-washed walls. First we sat outside on the green lawn right outside the house, until there was still light. A little old man brought us the typical afternoon snack in the midst of the hot afternoon, which I am still not used to – masala hot tea with ginger, black pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, combined with milk and a generous amount of sugar, accompanied by biscuits and numkeen, quite spicy fried cereal mixed with nuts in a bowl. There was a small spoon left in it. I scooped the snack with it and place it in my hand, instead of putting my fingers in it. The tea always needs to be steaming hot. If it is not, it needs to be returned and reheated. These are just the rules; no one expects anything different and accepts with understanding when such a request is made. They believe here that this spicy drink helps overcome the heat by sipping it when really hot. The steamy bath my face received spread through my body in little dripping lines of sweat, which seemed to be the ultimate objective. I had just finished this sauna-like experience when the little old man offered me more tea, but I had had enough.
He had bare feet, which looked quite hardened and cracked, as if he had never worn sandals or shoes. He was wearing a shirt-pant faded suit, unlike what one sees in other houses – a cloth wrapped around the thighs and a shirt. He always spoke with his hands behind his back, slightly bent at the waist and with a constant smile on his face. He was very sweet and gentle, waiting patiently for us to decide what we wanted to eat.
“He is going to cook whatever we wish. Nowadays he cooks only for special guests. He is an exceptional cook. Go ahead! Order your favorite dish. You will see.” The hostess assured me, but I felt uneasy and suggested that she chose whatever his signature dish was. So, I heard her order as if to a waiter in a restaurant:
“So let’s have several dishes – spinach, eggplant, potatoes with cauliflower, zucchini and okra.” And she turned to me:
“All vegetarian, of course. We eat only healthy food at home. And we don’t put a lot of spices, but you will see how tasty it will be. All the ingredients are freshly picked. We grow our own vegetables and herbs in the back yard.” Rajni explained.
I imagined how much preparation the food required and was feeling uncomfortable about all the food she ordered. A bit later, however, I noticed another lady in the kitchen who was helping him out, so my feeling of guilt decreased.
Mosquitoes started swarming around us and we decided to go inside. The hostess clapped twice and yelled “Guard!” and, instantly, a tall guard in a light brown uniform, a black barrette and a red belt came out of the little booth by the main gate.
“Put the chairs back!” She instructed him and we went inside. It was a huge space with white marble floors, divided into an open large foyer with a modern sitting area in it, a dining room on the left, a family room on one side and, on the other, a huge kitchen with all modern style cabinets and steel appliances. On the right side of the entrance there were two big bedrooms, each with its own walk-in closet and full bathroom. A large shiny staircase was in the center and there were two bedroom suites as well a big terrace on the second floor.
Initially we sat in the foyer. The Bhagavat Gita manuscript was exhibited on one side of the sofa. On the other side of the sofa, there was a side table with a big statue of Krishna made of sandal wood, depicting him playing his flute. It was placed next to a luxury edition of the Gitagovinda, a work composed in Sanskrit by the poet Jayadeva in the 12th century. The lyrical poet is deeply inspired by his devotion to and love of God and he represents Krishna’s relationship with his beloved Radha as a religious, aesthetic and erotic experience. The music he played on his flute was so captivating and intoxicating, that all the cow-herding girls would flock toward him and dance with him, while he magically appeared next to each one at the same time. This dance, called raslila is viewed by the Bhakti movement, a mystic-philosophical branch of Hinduism, as a symbol of the follower’s pure devotion to God, a symbol of the personal and direct relationship between the individual and the Supreme Being24.
Our conversation with the host family continued effortlessly on topics such as family, health, politics and globalization. I forgot that I was thousands of miles away from home, talking to people from a different culture, living in a different world, until Rajni abruptly shouted out “Raju Mama, Raju Mama!” She did not use only his name, but added mama, ‘uncle’, since he was older. And this very second, as if he was waiting by the door in the next room ready to be called, the little old man appeared with a smile on his face. She did not look at him, gave him short instructions to bring water and to return the framed photo of her children that she had just picked up from the other room to show me. She sent him away with the typical hand gesture with a circular movement of the wrist – fingers straight and touching, palm facing in, down and out. He disappeared inside the house and a few moments later turned up holding a tray with a jug and three tall glasses, which he left on the coffee table for us.
A little bit later a young woman came in and invited us to the dining room. The table was served. Metal bowls with all the vegetables were laid out along with and porcelain pot with a foil cover and a towel over it to keep the freshly made roti warm. The food was superb! Not greasy, not too spicy, not too hot! There was something unusual with it, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I am no specialist, but it tasted a bit different. I couldn’t resist and asked which ingredient was the one that gave it this uncharacteristic taste. It turned out that it was a pinch of sugar to neutralize the spiciness of the meal, used a lot in the area, where they were born. They came from Gujarat and Raju Mama was also Gujarati.
After dinner we headed upstairs on the terrace to their domestic altar. We climbed the large marble staircase with elaborate brass railing on both sides, illuminated by a huge crystal chandelier suspended low over it from the high ceiling. We exited through the all-window-sliding doors and through the sheer white curtains, elegantly dancing in the breeze.
Rajni was about to open the door of the shrine that they had recently built, when she noticed two small lizards on it. I was used to them because they would crawl on the walls of my room sometimes and I was told that they eat insects and are harmless for us. I had seen people usually shooing them away, if they were in the way, with a slipper. I thought she was going to do the same, but she suddenly clapped her hands twice and yelled “Raju Mama! Aa jaao!” I heard the noise of his bare feet coming from downstairs and saw him huffing up the luxurious staircase wearing his faded suit. He came with a smile on his face, he scared them off with his hand and slowly went downstairs.
The way you can encapsulate yourself and detach yourself from reality in India does not exist in many cultures. You get things done through other people you hire, through intermediaries, you can live without ever shopping for food in the market, going to the post office, standing on any line, walking down small streets and lanes in the city or interacting with poor people. Everywhere you go is pre-arranged, pre-orchestrated, pre-decorated, prepared for you. You live in a vacuum. And language reflects this socio-cultural phenomenon – karaanaa ‘to have someone do something’ a verb category called causative, formed through an infix. The meaning is expressed in English through a phrase “to have + verb’s past participle’ (or ‘to have something done’) and karvaanaa ‘to have someone get someone else to do something’ – it is called a secondary causative. This grammatical category has proved quite difficult to acquire, because of the fact that it is difficult to relate to its added semantic flavor as it is an aspect of a different socio-cultural reality. We call it the “royal” verb form. Not only do you get something done, but there is another person whom you send to request it to be done.
I asked her about him.
“He was a child when my husband’s parents took him in to help around the house in Surat. He was born in the village where they had land, but both his parents died soon after – his mother while giving birth to another child and his father in an accident while digging a well. Someone brought him to their house to save him from starvation. He lived with them, they found him a bride, both worked for them for a while, then they had children. When my husband and I decided to open a clinic here, he moved with his family with us. They lived in a little house in the back. We sponsored his children to attend school. They have their own families now and work in the city.”
“What about his wife?” I inquired further.
“She stays at home now. She stopped working a few years ago. But he doesn’t want to give up. He is getting old, too, yet he wants to continue. We had to ask him several times to hire another helper, but he insists to take care of the household. He still wants to be in charge of everything as always, although it’s becoming more and more difficult for him. It makes him feel needed. He says he is happy this way…He knows we won’t stop supporting him whether we hire someone else or not. Actually, to tell you the truth, I have no idea what we’ll do without him… We are relieved in a way that he is still around the house. When the kids come home, the first thing they do is to find Raju Mama and ask him for their favorite tea he makes. Then, they sit and talk to us, unpack their bags, watch TV. I hope he doesn’t leave us soon…he is part of the family, you know.”
His smiling face still lingers in my memory today.
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23 See for more The Bhagavad-Gita: Krishna Counsel in time of War. Trans. Barbara Stoller Miller. Bantam Classic, 2004.
24 See for more Barbara Stoler Miller. “The Devine Duality of Radha and Krishna”. The Devine Consort: Radha and the Goddesses of India. Eds. Hawley, J .S. and D. M. Wulff. Motilal Banarsidas Publishers, 1995. 13-27. And Love Song of the Dark Lord: Jayadeva’s Gitagovinda. Trans. Barbara Stoler Miller. Columbia University Press, 1998.