I am getting ready to leave this room, that for four months I have called 'home'. Here is a picture of the transformed porch that now, daily, is used to dry all my clothes, curtains and sheets for storage and the trip.
All of my beloved plants are now living at P.C. Vania's home. My favorite tree (which had just started to bloom again) left yesterday and the family has promised to look after it with loving care. Here is their photo with their grandson. This family adopted me while I was here, inviting me for dinners made from mutton (the only meat I've had in all the months I've been here). They did their best to get me to rent one of the two small apartments that was on the ground floor of the house they own, but I opted for hostel life and disgusting accommodations instead. The thing that kept me/us all going was Saraswati, who rose above it all; and the image of the lotus with its feet in the mud; blooming its exquisite and elegant bloom. Often it was kept me going; that and the porch.
Now the cool wind from the north dries the curtains that were made from a local Jamnagar sari. We (I call myself a local now) know that it is snowing in the Himalayas when a cold breeze blows in Jamnagar. It's snowing in the Himalayas....
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