We performed our debut show at the beach yesterday, and after some team tensions, an exhilarating, sweaty performance, and a wonderfully gracious audience, we went for a skinny dip ;-) followed by a beer.
This morning I woke up with a contentment that I don't often wake up with. A sense of ease that went from my fingertips to my core. I decided to give myself some space as I woke, and didn't plan to meditate, though somehow this wave of centredness carried me to my meditation stool, and I found myself sitting poised before the waves and the western joggers at 7am. I sat in the afterglow of yesterday's performance, reflecting on what it was I experienced as the show ended.
Over the last two weeks, I've made friends with a number of the necklace sellers on the beach. There is Shiva, a small framed, dark skinned indian man, with beautiful eyes and the traditional indian head wobble. An adorable little girl, Susannah the size of a 5 year old, but actually 8, she's a boisterous little character. Lucky, who's Hindi name is Chandra, a very sweet natured young introverted man. Sanjivanni, who has chosen Maria as her western name. I have become somewhat attached to Sanjivanni, she's 12 going on 20, we go swimming together, she teaches me Hindi, and we play noughts and crosses in the sand. We naturally connect on some level, and she introduced me to her little sister, Marta, and her mother Jyoti, who are also necklace sellers. There are many more sellers, Raj, Babagee, Maria no.2, Susannah no.2, Raj No.2, Kumar, Mira, Ganga, and many more, I saw all their beaming smiles in the audience last night, wide eyes and open mouths, along with all the hippies, hippie families and their children.
Sanjivanni, like all the other sellers, is young and works hard on the beach every day. Earning money is never out of her sight, and as we finish our game of noughts and crosses or playing in the sea, she flutters her eyelashes and says "sweetie, you want necklace?" I find it difficult, but i say no, I have bought one already from Shiva,and I don't need anymore. Ocassionaly she tells me "you beautiful, me monkey" it breaks my heart, and somehow me saying "no, you're beautiful" doesn't quite do the trick. As we lay there obsessively tanning, the young indian girls wish to have white skin. I am beginning to feel the pangs of discomfort at the suffering that surrounds me.
The necklace sellers swarmed me as the show finished, smiles, joy, compliments, cuddles, genuine and sincere whole hearted gratitude from them all, like nothing I have experienced before. Sanjivanni, the 12 year old friend I made, who works on the beach all day, donated 10 rupees to the charity. Something happened to me in that moment she handed those rupees over. At 12 years old I was asking for a Nokia phone with a changeable cover, and the latest fashion in Topshop. In that one small moment a piece of my heart opened, absorbed, melted and broke.
I bobbed in the sea alone today, it was a calm day, with some clouds around for most of it, which hasn't happened so far. As I floated around, looking out onto the horizon, I felt infused by a completeness. I felt overwhelmed by Mother Earth, and I realised I am in the land of the Buddha, doing what I love most, how special. I also remembered I had to do my washing before we leave for Calcutta tomorrow.
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