Almost the end, and almost the beginning

The last couple of weeks in Pune have brought a whirlwind of Sanskrit study sessions, late night discussions with S., quasi-uncomfortable ayurveda treatments, and hurredly-made plans for the next few months. I sit here in my room, which is looking infinitely more spiffy thanks to M and G’s discarded carpet, and recall that day in September when I was so happy to find this little place. Its yellow walls, flourescent lights, and exposure to huge amounts of traffic have held me well. I’ll be leaving all my things here while I travel around in at the end of December and through January, so this isn’t quite goodbye. But it’s close.

When S. moved into my bedroom a few weeks ago, it really started to feel like home – she’s wonderful, perhaps as a sister (if I had one) might be wonderful. And in a funny way, she reminds me of the first roommate I ever had: a straight-talking and sweet girl who grew up in more than 10 different countries; we roomed together for a year at our boarding school up north in the Himalayas. I’ve spent so much of the past few months taking care of myself; I had forgotten the twin comforts of taking care of someone else, and letting myself be taken care of. I hope S. keeps living in this room while I’m gone this spring. I like knowing she’ll be here, keeping an eye on passing traffic and enjoying the much-prized bathtub.

Sanskrit’s been an adventure, too, of the less comforting sort. (Isn’t it always?) I have an exam on Friday – an 8-hour monster made up of written answers, listening comprehension, spoken conversation, and a repeat of the placement test I took three months ago. My instincts have told me to pull out all the stops studying for this exam, and then my (other, stronger) instincts have told me that this test – just like all the other ones this semester – will have a net impact of approximately Zero on the rest of my Sanskrit education. By Friday, I hope to find myself somewhere in the middle. For now, the process of reviewing, miraculously void of the pressure any student would feel before a final exam, has been nothing less than pleasurable. It’s great to look back on something like vocabulary: how much I’ve learned! How much more I haven’t! I’m amazed that I can understand some spoken Sanskrit. My own conversations still come to a screeching halt whenever I have to express more than a simple clause. In grammar class we’ve been learning Paninian syntax -- today it gave me chills, it was so elegant. Most important, I’m trying to soak in these last few hours of my teachers’ company. It’s not just their teaching skills I’ll miss: their laughter, chin-dimples, patience, and gentle chiding have made a very difficult language a very happy home.

When I move on to English-teaching at the NGO in Delhi where I’ll be spending at least February though April/May (see www.salaambaalaktrust.org!), I hope my Sanskrit teachers’ examples stick with me. I’m looking forward to getting out of the classroom – and back into a very different, very welcome, kind of classroom.

I’m looking forward to leaving Pune, too: I enjoy the city, but it (the part of it that I see, at least) is pretty homogenous. Hindu student youth. Middle class, middle-lower class, upper class. Autorickshaw drivers who use the meter. So bring on the insane diversity and history of Delhi. Let me drive among centuries’ worth of royal detritus. I dare the pranksters and scammers to try their worst. (Okay, maybe not their worst. I take it back.) It’s been too long since I heard the beautiful, familiar, muezzin’s call to prayer blaring outside my window.

And finally, after three months of living with ayurveda students, PK (ayurvedic panchakarma) has come into my life with a bang and a cup of melted ghee. Daily massages, sweating sessions, ghee drinking, and strange brown tablets. Diet regulations are even more bizarre to my western stomach. But I do feel better, clearer, even after only three days on the soft-core end of the panchakarma regimen. (Thing step up pretty dramatically this Saturday.) The best part of treatment is that it’s an opportunity to speak in a few languages that aren’t English. My ayurveda doctor, Dr. G., speaks Sanskrit herself. That’s always a joy. Plus, the two ladies who work for her speak Hindi and Marathi, and were so amused when I attempted to speak to them in Hindi on my first day of treatment that they now refuse to speak to me in any other language. So I sit in the steam chamber and attempt to carry on conversations involving the five verbs that I know, four of which are in the polite imperative. Finally, thanks to a few choice spots on my body (that shall remain unnamed), I have learned to say the following sentence in Marathi:

Malaa gudagulii hotaat. I am ticklish.