I've endured a lot of difficulties with computers, the internet and accessing my e-mail. After a particularly difficult session in which I spent well over an hour just trying to print out the plane ticket that will get me to Delhi for my flight home I was finally saved by a couple of locals who took pity on me. Afterwards I told them I wanted to find a place to eat and they suggested a restaurant that was nearby.
All I had to do was go down the street we were on, take the first left and go until I found the place. Now I've known for most of my life that I have an uncanny ability to get lost while following the most simple directions, but even I was surprised when the street where I was to find the restaurant became narrower, darker and eventually came to a dead end at lake Pinhole without yielding my destination.
So, a bit incredulous that I had set a new standard for how quickly I could get lost, I turned around and headed back.
On the way a guy (whose name I later learned was Prakash) said, "Hello". Now that I've been wearing western clothing this happens to me a lot. When I'm in the market it is often a prelude to a sales pitch of some sort but in this case I felt reasonably certain it was just Indian friendliness. I responded with, "hello" and a brief conversation ensued. "Where are you from?" "America" "how long are you in India" etc. but at one point Prakash asked me a question I had not heard before, "can you read English?" A bit perplexed I said, "of course." Then he asked if I could read a letter he had received as he invited me into his house.
When I was in Ghana I was invited into the home of a couple of young boys to meet their mother and was immediately accosted for my money. I escaped after loosing only a few dollars but it taught me a lesson about staying out in the public. And because I was already a bit spooked by being well down a dimly lit nearly deserted street, there was a voice in my head that said, "Watch it!" when Prakash invited me into his home. But it was not a loud voice and my gut seemed to think it was ok, so I followed him inside.
Once inside I was introduced to another guy, Laxmi. Laxmi has cerebral palsy, a result of a bad reaction to a polio vaccine when he was a young child. If he was ever bitter about this unfortunate turn of events, he has long gotten over it. He is perhaps the sweetest guy I've ever met as well as one of the happiest. It was a letter someone had sent to Laxmi that Prakash had wanted me to read.
A guy from Spain who had met Laxmi while traveling in Udaipur had written to tell Laxmi of how much he had enjoyed meeting him and how his life had gone upon his return to Spain.
When I finished reading the letter we all started talking and the atmosphere continued to grow more friendly and comfortable. I learned that Prakash was the cook for the king of Udaipur (I hadn't known Udaipur even had a king). Apparently this lofty and strategic position is not rewarded with an adequate salary as Prakash shares Laxmi's apartment and cooks for him in return. I also became more enthralled with Laxmi. Besides his good nature and good humor, he was really a very wise man. We talked about what does and does not make one a happy person and other matters of the spirit and heart.
Eventually the conversation got around to me and what I've been up to. I started into my building-load-bearing-straw-bale-homes-in-Pakistan spiel when I pulled out a picture that showed what I was talking about.
Laxmi looked at the picture for a moment and then looked up and said, "Do you know David?" Stunned, I responded that I DID know a David Kubiac. Then he asked, "and Rita?" At this point an elephant could have materialized in the room and I would not have been any more astonished.
"Yes!" I replied, "I DO know Rita" as I wondered if this was not a revamped version of "Candid Camera."
Laxmi explained that he was very good friends with David and Rita. Rita had told him that an American was coming to Udaipur after spending a month in Pakistan building straw homes and that we should meet. Rita, too, had told me of a special friend she had wanted me to meet and I was waiting for her to return from Delhi to arrange the introduction.
As it dawned on the 3 of us that out of a city of ½ million we had managed to bump into each other quite by "accident" it became difficult to keep our jaws off the floor.
Apparently the universe could not wait for Rita's return so it arranged the meeting on its own terms.
Laxmi and I agreed that we would not divulge the details of our meeting until we could both be with her to appreciate her response.
That did not happen until a couple of days after she got home. Finally she said she had this friend of hers she wanted me to meet. She warned me that he had cerebral palsy and that he got around by doing a sort of crab-walk/crawl. When we went to pick up Laxmi she introduced us. It was all Laxmi and could do to keep from laughing out loud as we each said, "nice to meet you." Whenever Rita's gaze was diverted we would share a secret grin as we anticipated our telling of the story.
That happened about an hour later. She, too, had a problem keeping her jaw off the floor. As she realized how well we had pretended to not know each other when she "introduced" us all she could do was laugh and say, "you guys are SO bad!"
And then we all laughed, long and deeply.
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