In Transit: Mornings on Sundays.
Think of all the things you never did before
Think of the millions of things you never had seen before
Think of all the millions of things…
Think of that, and then this is just one more in that list of millions.“
And so he said, the guru, clad behind in clothes of off white wool. He stood wrapped in a shall, standing like a living mummy over our squatted selves as we balanced over heals with arms stretched forward holding small metal drinking cups, like monkeys at a zoo begging for crackers. We bent lower and lower, until he said our foundations were firm. With cups stretched up, he poured tepid water and we drank, filling our stomachs, chugging the salty metallic water, and when we finished with each cup, he would pour quickly another, we kept drinking and our stomachs filled, becoming bloated and heavy. With each cup our base become lower, we seemed to fall and squat more naturally, opening more space in our bodies for liquid. More and more we drank, until suddenly, after about the 7th or 8th cup, we suddenly all in a strange unison launched forward and up, to come standing bent over troths, and vomited instantly and pleasantly, not like expected or feared, not violent, nor bile. Like fountains we poured out our souls of water, laughing between bursts, rubbing our noses free from mucus, and began to realize the absurdity of it all.
For this was India, and on this Sunday morning us four who had come early to do yoga, instead were laughing and pleased, strangely amused that vomiting water did certainly seem as the guru has said pleasant and refreshing.
And so he had been right, it was merely one more thing on that list of millions, only one more new experience, only one more in an infinite unpredictable series.