(66) “Om House”

Stephan informed us he and Rene were soon to be moving out of the little jungle hut behind the beach. It would be a significant upgrade for us to move out of the “Love Shack.” They invited us to see the hut and meet the family. To get to the hut, we walked around the tail of the Om, past “the cows that ate everything,” and into the jungle. We found Stephan sitting beside a small fire outside the hut in a small clearing. Greeting us, he offered a cup of chai. 

The lady of the couple he was renting from joined us. She was a dark, tiny woman dressed in a lungi. Motioning that she would like a smoke, Stephan handed her a “beedie.” Donna had also discovered her enjoyment of beedies, tobacco wrapped in a tendu or temburni leaf secured with a colorful string at one or both ends. Beedies immediately cemented the connection between Donna and the woman as they smiled and smoked. We were approved to move in (photo Donna Howley)

Stephan gave us a tour of the “facilities,” i.e., where the well was, the field area in which to defecate, and where to get some firewood. He told us about a rat that would visit nightly and eat our food unless we left a piece of peanut brittle as an offering up in the rafter of the hut.

Moving Into “Om House”

A few days later, Stephan and Rene finally decided it was time to leave, and we moved into “Om House.” After living in the “Love Shack” for two weeks and were ready to move off the beach. It was a pleasure to sit and listen to the sounds of the jungle. We saw a big black bird covered in white polka dots, apparently, an Asian Paradise Flycatcher, as it flew onto a branch nearby. This was a little piece of paradise. (photo selfie)

“Om House” was a mud shack with woven palm roofing and a wooden door to lock. Sukuru, our new landlord, improved our new dwelling by filling in the gaps in the wall and ceiling with a new layer of clay, mud, and cow pie mixture. I took this opportunity to add an Om design to the wall with the small shells we had found on the beach. We then added our initials and dated it “1/95.” With the leftover shells, Donna made a lovely windchime that we hung off a bamboo pole protruding from the patio’s coconut-leaved roof.

There was also a small rock hearth in one corner of our patio complete with pots and a chapatti pan giving us the facility to cook. So, the routine changed again and we started cooking. It was good but time-consuming. Since we had moved, we now had a well with good water, a place to bath in private, and a good laundry rock near the well.

An old stone wall bordered one side of the property, as a retaining wall, next to a dry creek bed. I’m sure the creek was full come monsoon season. During dry times it was a well-traveled cow path. All the cows have large white birds that hang out with them like old friends.

Critters of All Sizes

“Om House” also came with an assortment of critters including a rat. This rat would keep us up half the night scurrying around the rafters of our little mud house. Stephan had told us about the rat and indicated that we should give it a nightly baksheesh of a small piece of peanut brittle. This would satisfy it and it would then leave our food alone. A few essential food items were purchased and hung from the rafter. We just needed to be sure to include peanut brittle for the rat in our shopping list. One time, the offering was forgotten. The rat quickly reminded us by eating our bananas. Live and learn! 

We had straw mats that we slept on, sat on, and one next to the doorway to lean back against. Something unusual in the ‘land of yoga.’ We were surrounded by banana trees, coconut trees, and jungle flora. A small unused well was now a watering hole for birds. We were visited regularly by incredible tropical birds. One outstanding visitor was a large, black-spotted, yellow bird with a long pointed beak and a huge wingspan. I have searched and Googled and still have not been able to identify this bird!

Another feathered friend that visited regularly was a lovely green, orange, and yellow parrot. Om Beach was also home to three different types of eagles. We also had a yard full of chickens and one exhausted but happy rooster. The stars of the chicken show were Mama Hazel and her chicks, Mabel, Mavis, Mildred (referred to as Millie, of course), and Myrtle. They were fun as they scrapped around and ate everything. We would threaten them if they got too close by calling, “Barbeque!” They responded best to that although “dumplings!” also sent them flying.

The Family

Our house also came with a delightful family. Our landlords, Sukuru and his wife, Showme. They had four children, but we only met two. One lived in the next town, and we think one had died. Sukuru and Showme seemed to be about Donna’s age, with hard, dark skin, and red and black stained teeth with several missing. The red and black stained teeth are the result of chewing betel nut, an addictive, mild stimulant. Actually. they were probably younger than me since their daughter couldn’t have been more than fourteen. No one spoke English and our Hindi vocabulary was a simple “namaste,” which basically meant both hello, and goodbye. So, communication was sign language, mime and simply talking to each other in our own languages. Somehow, ideas were exchanged and everyone enjoyed each other.

The occasional visits from Showme were a nice break in our day. A thin, dark little woman, Showme would meander over, raising her thumb and finger to her lips, mimicking smoking. Donna would smile and dig out a couple of beedies from her bag for each of them. With the strike of a “Homelite” match, they were soon puffing and chattering away. A lovely time for all. I was amazed that though neither understood the other’s language, you would never know it. They sat around the little fire, talking and laughing together like old friends. 

Fresh Coconuts

Her husband, Sukuru, climbed a coconut tree to get us a fresh green coconut. He put his machete through the waistband of his loincloth, put both feet into a loop of rope, and up he went. Shimmying to the top, he held on with one hand, retrieved his machete, and with a few whacks, several coconuts fell to the ground. He shimmied back down and soon we were all drinking coconut milk! (photo Donna Howley)

The community well was a large hole in the ground with a counterweighted lever and a bucket on a rope, also known as a “shadoof.” Sometimes one had to wait in line to dip out the needed water for bathing or cooking.

Family Time

One night, Shube visited with a girlfriend to show off her English. It was silly as they all mostly just giggled and laughed at each other. Still, everyone had a wonderful time.

Another night we were at the Rama kitchen, playing music late into the night. Sukuru’s son works there, so Sukuru was there but hanging back in the shadows. He stayed and listened to the music as we jammed. He seemed to like it. Imagine, this man has lived his entire life in a jungle in India. His curiosity and openness were a sparkle of light.

One day I brought out the QY20 sequencer I had been composing on. I put the earphones on him and played Sukuru my music. He was amazed at it all. These sweet rural people are the true heart of India.

Chai Shop Promotion

One of the chai shops hired a group of local musicians to try and increase the business. Most of us wandered over to see what was going on and found it mildly entertaining. There were drummers and singers chanting local songs around a big bonfire. Several of the men danced in a coordinated movement clacking sticks with each other rhythmically. As the evening wore on, the band became increasingly drunk. Some of the babas started dancing around the fire. It was funny for a little while, but then it just became a stumbling drunken spectacle and we left. (photo Lance)

Lance Goes To Karwar

We were running out of money so I made the journey to Karwar to the money exchange. First I climbed up and over the hills and cliffs to Gokarna to catch the bus to Karwar. Once on the bus, I managed to get a seat although it was quite crowded. It reminded me of the colorful buses in Guatemala. As we were speedily bumping our way down the road, there was a burst of excitement and yelling behind me. It took a moment, but the bus driver stopped. The back door had come open and someone had fallen out! He carefully backed the bus up as many people continued to scream directions. “Back up,” “No stop!” “A little more.” “STOP, STOP!” It was as confusing as you may imagine.

The man that had fallen out was put back on the bus. The bus driver then drove not to Karwar, but to the closest hospital. Here, we waited for what would be an indefinite period of time while the injured man was seen by a doctor. I was happy they brought him there, but I needed to get to Karwar. Managing to catch another bus, I arrived in Karwar in time to exchange money. In a nearby shop, I saw a beautiful, purple sari. Purple is Donna’s favorite color so, I bought it for her before catching the bus back to Gokarna. The return trip was, thankfully, uneventful.

Donna’s Busking Baba

Meanwhile that afternoon at the Delhi chai shop, a busking baba came through. Donna says he was “the cutest little thing!” He had a sexy glimmer in his eyes as he would make eye contact with all the women, young and old. As he moved through the crowd of 30 or so he placed a red dot on the forehead of most, but not Donna. When he returned to his seat he played more music while everyone “Bum Shiva’d”. Then he caught Donna’s eye and motioned her to come to sit with him. (I was on a trip to Karwar to exchange money having my own crazy adventure.)

So, Donna moved over and sat with the baba. He then put a red dot on her forehead and accepted a tip of a few rupees for her photographing, and for the fun of it all. This is the exact moment I returned from my journey to Karwar. I took a seat next to the baba. He put a red dot on my forehead and gave me a bead which I put on my special necklace right away. Then he jumped up and began dancing around, accepting bakshish from everyone there. We all had a great time and Donna recorded his music! (photo Donna Howley)

Lance Returns

Having returned, I recounted my bus adventure and presented Donna with the purple sari I bought in Karwar. Showme and her daughter, Shube, had the biggest case of giggles trying to teach Donna how to wrap the sari properly. She finally ‘got it’ but realized how difficult it is for Westerners, to wear due to our posture. We think the grace of the women of third-world countries whose carriage is so correct is due to carrying bowls, etc. on their heads.

Speaking of babas and bakshish, one time while we were still in the “Love Shack,” we had a door-to-door baba collecting bakshish. He was a very old man leaning heavily on his cane for support. Amazingly, he even gave out a receipt for the donation. Cute.

Changes

The quiet time away from the chai shop was a welcome change from the previous weeks. However, we still regularly visited to play carrom and smoke a chillum. We also slowed down on swimming. Not being right there all the time, we usually escaped to our cool jungle home during the day’s intense heat.

A young man from Nepal was hanging out at the chai shop and playing carrom. We talked about many things, including travel and this being our first time in India. One day he said to me, “There is one thing you must never, ever, do.” My mind raced to figure out what this forbidden act must be. “You must never give money to a beggar! If you do, it will leave a mark here,” he touched his forehead, “as sure as a tattoo that all beggars will be able to see. You will never have peace from them!” Good advice!

We learned there was a road that brought supplies to the beach and considered that could be a way back to Gokarna. But the hot sunny road was much longer than the trek across the hill. We opted just to stay put. It was easy to fall into the pattern as the days and nights slipped into each other. Everything was very relaxed. Even though there was no electricity on the beach, nobody seemed to care. We made music and could see every star in the sky at night. We ate our evening meals by candlelight. The sound of the gentle waves caressing the shore. We were all so happy and couldn’t ask for more.

Next: (67) Raid on Om Beach