Felt a little out of sorts all day on the Thursday. I offered to help out on the farm and was given the chore of helping prepare vegetables – I didn’t cut the spinach fine enough (they cut it up so fine, when it shrinks away to nothing!) so was relegated to sorting and chopping up small aubergines. The task didn’t take long. I was left pretty much to my own devices after that.
Another housemate moved in – an attractive young woman called Prita who worked in a bank in Bangalore and visited occasionally to see Gopi – her uncle – mainly but also to visit the Trust community. She disappeared off after putting her luggage in her room.
I mooched around and rinsed out some clothes, read a little, wrote a little. Around the farm I saw large sheets with rice drying and another concrete surface with turmeric drying – and women (employed by the community from the local hamlet) winnowing rice and millet. I saw other women roasting peanuts.
I wondered what I was doing, so far away from Steve and family at this time – and felt deeply lonely for perhaps the first time this trip. It was Christmas after all and there were none of the trappings here, in this Hindu place.
That night I threw up, quite violently, at 4am. And then more or less slept all day, feeling chilly, despite the warmth outside. I was woken mid morning by a knocking on the door – Nagarajan (the eldest of the community – and one of the only original founders still left) was worried as I hadn’t turned up to breakfast. He said it wasn’t a good idea to lock my door as no one could get at me if I became unconscious – I replied I’d only done so since Gopi had said that it was best to lock the door at night when he showed me to the house. I felt churlish, had a slight headache, went back to sleep – missing lunch as well as breakfast. I was aware of being checked on occasionally, which was comforting. I was a pitiful poorly baby.
I dragged myself up to the main kitchen for supper – but no one was there (I often got confused as to whether the communal supper time was 7 or half past – and I think it varied). I went back to bed as didn’t feel hungry anyway. I finished my book, which was a tragic and sad story and which I decided I didn’t like overall– though I’d enjoyed some of the descriptive passages.
Managed to sleep all night too – goodness gracious.
A newly retired Terri following her heart into a world of woolly creativity. Live the dream