Home Temple

[We're back, and slowly getting back into the rhythm of daily life. I am trying to get back into the rhythm of writing and cooking as well. The next few weeks promise to be hectic with birthdays and school starting, but bear with me, and I'll be back in full force soon.]

The wedding was a joyous, intense, two-and-a-half day affair in which we, along with hundreds of guests, were fed ridiculously, gluttonously well – breakfast, lunch, tiffin, dinner, with coffee in between, without once having to lift a finger or even bat an eyelash. The servers, laden with stainless steel buckets of food and ladles, moved systematically down the long rows of tables set with banana leaf plates, placing more than a half dozen different kinds of food (variations of rice, lentils, chutney, curry, sweets, chapatis, etc.) upon each leaf. And they came again to refill. And again. As I grew desperate to figure out the way to make them stop, I asked my husband how to say 'enough' and 'just a little bit' in Tamil. He told me, I tried to repeat it, but took his doubled over laughter as a bad sign.* So I was stuck and had to keep eating. Oh well. The great thing about Indian clothing is the tightness is adjustable.

The next day, we landed briefly in the small Tamil village of Thinnium, to wrap things up with a final ceremony at the family's ancestral temple. Although they left the village two generations ago, looking for opportunity in Chennai (and then America), it is still considered spiritual home, if nothing else. It was a peaceful place, and everyone was glad for it. The first thing we did was draw water from the well and wash our feet.

One thing I admire about Hindu rituals is the offering of food to God. Bananas, coconuts, sweets, the pouring of milk. What it says to me is food is precious, and to be revered as a gift. Do not take it for granted. Respect it. And it is all beautiful to look at as well.

When the ritual was complete, we made our rounds around the perimeter of the temple, enjoyed the breeze, and saw a monkey sitting on top of the wall, gazing at his reflection in a broken shard of mirror he had found. I am sure this also has some symbolic significance, but am not sure what it is. Then we were served lunch. That goes without saying.

*Even though he repeated it a dozen times, I for the life of me could not hear the difference between the word for 'a little bit' and the word for a certain part of the male anatomy that starts with 'p' in English.