Yogi seems to have abandoned trying to persuade me to walk up a nearby mountain – probably just as well, since I had already determined that I would steadfastly refuse. But instead, a far more acceptable suggestion was made, to give some purpose to our day, which was for Rajindra, the younger of Yogi’s brothers, to show us his farm. While both the other brothers have moved away from the village, Rajindra (despite, they have both assured me, being the most intelligent and gifted of the three) has decided to stay and has looked after the family farm.
First of all, I was provided with a splendid walking-stick. It had apparently belonged to their father, but had more or less been stored away somewhere. It was in a pretty grubby condition – it looked as though it had been used to poke the fire, but Bhumi took it upon himself to clean it up. And by the time he had finished, it looked very splendid indeed, with a deep red finish (though this had been scraped away a little by the cleaning process.)
The stick proved necessary. Even though, as Yogi had told me, the farm was really quite close, it meant navigating a pretty narrow path, and, at times, some awkward sections. As with Bharat, I had to have my hand held on a few occasions. Raja’s major crop is cardamom, which he is able to sell in both India (where it is mostly used as a spice) and China (where it is chiefly used in medicine, used to produce either menthol or something very near it. (As ever, I at least find it difficult to obtain precise information.) He also produces the vast majority of the food used by the family – pumpkins, beans, cabbage, as well as what is rather more exotic produce in these parts: cauliflower, tomatoes. There were also a pretty large numbers of tell cannabis plants, though these were not grown for their hallucinogenic effect; we are told that the government offers permission for this crop as a long-term ingredient in a local sauce, rather like mustard – though we saw no evidence that any of this product was used in their diet. As a strict vegetarian, more properly a vegan, he avoids animal products of all kinds, though he does seem to have a long-term project to establish some sort of fish farm (though, as ever, it was difficult to understand this properly, and I may have it entirely wrong.)
For quite a while, we sat on a bank (actually on a piece of foam insulation he had brought for the purpose) while we chatted over a pretty wide-ranging series of topics: the recent ritualistic honouring of his late father (whereby he and his two brothers had gone through what was effectively a thirteen-day fast, eating only plain rice once a day, drinking only water, wearing white robes and cut off from the rest pf the family. This led to a wider description of Hindu belief about reincarnation; then the religious practice of others, especially muslims; multiculturalism in general, and his very liberal attitude to free movement; and finally on to music – he is the only Nepali I have met with a knowledge of western music, such as the Beatles and Bob Dylan. He did explain that he wants to consider making music, and establish some sort of studio. He could do with some assistance with the computer he has, and Val promised to give him some time.
On the way back, we stopped at the communal bathing area – a square concrete basin fed by three or four water pipes – both men and women bathe here, both protecting their modesty with minimal clothing. He left us for ten minutes or so to wash ourselves; we had brought soap and a towel for that purpose. Which actually proved to be a very good idea, as we both felt cleaner and refreshed as a result.
Later, Val did attempt to look at his computer, but it seems pretty ancient, and in any case her knowledge and experience of hardware, especially of such an antiquated variety, meant she was able to give him much help. She laments the fact that she had not brought any of the various redundant laptops we have lying around at home, any one of which would be far superior to the equipment he is attempting to get some life out of.
Heavy rain fell in the afternoon, restricting any more activity, and creating problems with keeping the house clean. That night, by way of variety, we had rice pudding, which I quite enjoyed, despite it having rather too much spice in t, and being accompanied by the standard cooked fiercely spiced, vegetables. Though there were also a few small potatoes baked in the fire; I only wish there could have been far more. I think the people here misunderstand western people’s difficulty with the local food. They assume it is because it is too spicy (and of course, sometimes it is);for myself, what I miss most is the taste of vegetables unadorned with spice. I long for plain potatoes, for cauliflower, cabbage, carrots… Everything here is turned yellow, and so it becomes almost the same. We did have some cooked pumpkin, which I enjoyed very much indeed. It was spiced, of course, but also had a lightness and freshness to it.
And so we approach almost the end of our stay with Yogi. He has been rather too apologetic for the privations of village life, but also has expressed the hope that we would appreciate the benefits of a simpler existence, and in that sense we very much have. What have we gained? A slower pace of life, the warmth of the relationships, the real cosiness of sitting around a small fire. But I have found the lack of somewhere comfortable to sit difficult, the toilet arrangements rather unple4asant, the lack of a comfortable bed especially a problem.
In this, my last night was difficult, with too little sleep, finding it a challenge to turn over, and a long night stretching out for what seemed forever. With luck, I consoled myself, this might be my last night enduring such a thing… maybe for ever.
