Sitting at the ornate reception area of my favorite hotel in Pharaghanj, after a cup of chai in the local out-door chai stole across the street, at 6 am in the morning. Too hungry, excited, and bubbling with creative energy to do any more practice or sleep. We arrived yesterday at 3am. I crashed long before dinner, and woke up at 11pm, at 1pm, and again for good at 4am, to practice on the roof, greeting the Smokey morning. Waiting for restaurants to open after not having any substantial meal for about 20 hours… There is something about India, despite the smog, the dust, the dirtiness, the noise, the overt stimulation, or maybe because of that; I feel so happy to be here. Happy to be.
Yesterday was a blare of little delights; eating sweet potato with over dose of kala namak and obscure masalas in the street, followed by Veg. Momos, and lime-masala drink. Surveying hundreds of natural fabrics, handloom, handspun, unimaginable designs, colors and textures, oh India, the kingdom of sensual inventions and prohibitions…My favorite textile discovery: Handspun mulberry pulp by-product made into gorgeous soft and royal shirt in natural color with unique neckline combining inner v shape inserted into round accent.
Today’s subjective are simple: flowing with the jetlag into balance, more fabrics, more masalas (with food), and maybe a visit to the art museum.
And tomorrow, Orissa my love, going back to the land of Odissi, where modernization is around the corner, pushing in against thick and ancient culture, threatening to completely swoop over and permeate between the threads, but not yet, just not yet.
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