the golden border

in 2000 i went to india. upon my return i created a book about the experience. the book is a compilation of poems, journal entries, notes from buddhist philosophy and medical classes, prose vignettes and emails. every time i think the book is complete i pick it up and start revising it again. i hope to someday have it published, but in the mean time i thought it might be fun to share some of it here. so anytime you see a post titled "the golden border," you'll know it's an excerpt from my book.

the following is about our first morning in dharamsala, the village we lived in for a year.


Awakening


loads of beggars line streets hoping for cash on saga dawa, the buddha's birthday. entire families camp on roadside, huddle under one blanket, laugh and extend ragged limbs. man with thick black dreadlocks cooks dal over tiny open fire, his small children squatting close, gazing out.

rising at 4:00 am for sunrise puja, we have been in dharamsala just eight hours.

run into mark moore and dara ackerman at gates of temple, friends of dan's from previous visits, proprietors of khana nirvana cafe. mark, sharp and quick, dashing about casually. dara in comfortable chuba greeting us with lengthy smile and intelligent dark eyes.

on flagstones, blanketed by dalai lama's prayer, crawling through veils of dusk and light, morning dawns. we huddle close in cool mist. small skeletal trees grow in courtyard. areas of construction lie in disarray.

having understood little of what his holiness had chanted or uttered, we file out with crowds of jostling tibetans. mark yells to us from high perch. in two hours we'll join him and dara at cafe.

khana nirvana cafe is up steep numerous concrete stairs, a lofty room overlooking kangra valley. interior is comfortable, wooden, with khadi pillows and dusty pink walls that resemble adobe. there is an exhibit, fading photographs of local lepers, their histories included. already i recognize some. on bamboo bookshelves we find quirky collection of children's stories, tattered travel guides, various religious tracts and cryptic hebrew texts. barstools are piled with binders of volunteer information and fliers, near table buried deep with educational matter. there are a few shabby stringed instruments and several drums.

dara and mark serve us vegan muffins and huge plates of tofu scramble.

tashi wrestles with amma la, matronly tibetan woman who works at khana nirvana, and on this particular morning, sleeps there. her toothless grin and mad laughter stir us.

dan, tashi and i flipped from sleep deprivation.