Goodbye Pondicherry - And It Seems Like I Gotta Travel On

Some good people have written in expressing Concern about my Welfare - and I would like to assure them that I am absolutely fine, and that I am quite enjoying myself living in The Outdoors, and that I like Challenges, and that I have NEVER opted for a Soft Life. My Motto has always been that of the musclebuilder:

NO PAIN, NO GAIN

Last evening went off quite alright - and a Good Man joined the sadhu and me for some conversation, a Good Man named Muthu, which, he said, means "Pearl." This Good Man studied Economics here in Pondicherry - and now works for the government here, his duties related to "welfare for the poor." And we talked about why the poor need Liberty - and not this inflation-financed phony welfare. He said he will be coming back today - and I have some books to present him.


Quite frankly, I have enjoyed this month or more here in Pondicherry. I enjoyed reliving my past. And I like this little City - and I did meet lots and lots of Good People here, all of whom co-operated with me even during the occasional financial crises I went through. I wish to publicly thank them all - the tea shop owner and his Master tea-makers; the cigarette shop owner next door; the booze shop next to the Fire Station; this Internet facility; the Big Man who sells me my dinners of fried prawns and fried chicken legs, and has twice done so on credit; and, of course, the dear, old Mango Man on Beach Road who found my slippers and extended me some loans. His name is RAMALINGAM. Which means: 

The Mighty Phallus of Lord Rama.

Now, to digress a bit, Tamilians often have names ending with the word "lingam," which means Mighty Phallus. Apart from Ramalingam you have Shivalingam, and there is Anandalingam - and "ananda" means "happiness." But the whackiest of them all is BHOOTHALINGAM - for "Bhootha" means "Ghost." Now, Phantom is "The Ghost Who Walks." While Bhoothalingam is "The Ghost Who Fucks"! Freaky place, India.


Anyway, this morning, I awoke very early. Since my pouch has been stolen, I was using a rolled-up pair of jeans as a pillow. I picked this pillow up, tucked it under my arm, and ambled down to where the sadhu sleeps, under a tree, with my little luggage next to him, on my 100 rupee chatai. I threw the jeans-pillow down there - and the sadhu awoke! I apologised profusely for having disturbed his sleep - and proceeded down to the tea shop, but it had not opened yet. So I made it back to the beach, picking up my jeans-pillow along the way, and went back to sleep.


When I next awoke, it was already early dawn - and it was so, so beautiful. But I did not wait to see the Sun. I walked back to the tea shop - dropping off my jeans-pillow GENTLY next to the sleeping sadhu. I enjoyed a few good cups of tea. And the cigarette shop extended me some packets of fags on credit. I then returned to my place near the sadhu - and we enjoyed some cigarettes and conversation together. But, this time, someone had STOLEN my jeans-pillow. The Sadhu assured me that such people will surely end up in Hell. Paradise is NOT for such people.


Anyway, during the course of our conversation, the sadhu and I took the bold decision to get the hell out of Pondicherry. We have decided to head for Chakan, which lies some 50km outside Poona, there to stay in open, airy tents on the vast grounds owned by my good friend there, Sharad Joshi of the Shetkari Sanghatana. There, my sadhu friend, whom I have given the name Baba Diogenes, The Cynic - for he is a true ascetic, possessed of no possessions other than his PURE SOUL - and I intend to enjoy Boom Shankar every morning, every afternoon, every evening, and every night as well. I trust Sharad Joshi's staff will give us kandha-pohay for breakfast and zunkha-bhakri for dinner. Neither of us eats lunch. 


And I am sure there will be a computer there with an Internet connection upon which I can do my Daily Work. I love doing my Daily Work. Samuel Smiles said: "The word 'work' is inscribed on the Sinews of Both our Hands." And Mr. Bob Marley sang, in his great song, "Soul Rebel":

Said I'm a Living Man,

I've got Work to do,

And if you're not happy, children,

Then you must be Blue.

Now, something about the History of Chakan.


Once upon a time, the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb despatched a section of his Imperial Army to the Deccan to battle the Maratthas, who were led by Shivaji. When this Army reached the Deccan, they camped at Chakan - and they continued to stay camped there, without engaging in any battles, for month after month after month after month after month.


After some seven or eight such boring months had passed by, a brave Captain of this Imperial Army went to the tent of the General who was in command and inquired: "Sir, why have we camped here so long? Why are we not fighting battles as we are supposed to?"


The General answered:

The weather here is Excellent. If we fight, and if we win, we will be sent to Kabul or Kandahar - and it is too cold in those places. So let us remain in camp. Enjoy the weather. And relax. Take it easy, Captain.

So, you can see why Baba Diogenes, the Cynic, and I are headed for this lovely place, by road, in a small hired taxi, that too at a time when soft, monsoon rains are falling on the verdant, rolling hills of the Western Ghats of Maharashtra.


Thanks you all for everything. And may God bless all of you.


Ah! You might have some questions about how I am going to pay for this taxi ride. Well, my VERY OLD FRIEND, a man I have known since the late 1970s, who is now The Captain of a Very Big Ocean-Going Merchant Ship, is putting 20k into my bank account. At 11am, he wrote me. And I will visit the bank sometime after 12 noon. 

Thanks Heavens for Our Friends.