We decided we had made something of a mistake last night, using too many blankets beneath us as padding, and not enough on top, so that I was far too cold. Only when the night was almost done did we switch things around… and then I fell into a deep sleep (with the return of some vivid dreams, which seems to be the norm in such stuations.)
When we made our way up to Yogi’s, we discovered Yogi, Bhumi and Dibyata hard at work, digging the road in front of their house. A road is being forged through in front; it used to be a major walking trail, but not only have the authorities been improving the major routes in the country, there are schemes to bring minor roads too. Just a few days before, a digger had come through to make preparations, making a basic clearance (and more or less destroying the next house along, in order to widen the route.) Now they were preparing the area right in front of the house by hand, digging out the rocks, shovelling the dirt out to level the space (and presumably improving the chances of a level road.)
They cleared one large rock which had been acting as a makeshift step… to reveal two large frogs hiding there, which Val relocated to a safer spot, carrying them one by one. And then they set about remaking the step, enlarging it and making it absolutely stable. By the end, it looked as though it had been there for a hundred years, and was perfectly secure.
Later, Yogi told us that Dibyata and her cousin So fal (just a few years older than her, and a splendid young man) were going to be taking us to Ramkot temple, on an adjoining hilltop, perhaps a mile away; Yogi assured me it was a manageable walk. It soon became clear, however, that although it was more or less on the same level as us, it would require a pretty steep descent, and then an equally steep climb. But it was a most pleasant outing, and the route up was mostly covered in first a new concrete road, and then some well-made steps with railings.
The temple was also an ashram, with some institutional buildings there, and some simple shrines. However, it was made clear that we were expected to visit the pujari, the priest, in order to receive a tika, some honey, some honeycomb, and a small cake, as well as a blessing. I had started to commence the way back down, when Sofal called me back; apparently there was another route down, through the temple and beyond, down a huge set of well-made, apparently brand new stairs.
On the way back, we encountered one of the home-made swings that are so popular here, and spent a short while there, Sofal terrifying us with the height he was able to reach, standing up on the seat. And then it was time to begin the long, rather slow plod back up the hill, on my part, at least. Yogi has suggested a hike up one of the nearby mountains tomorrow, but I have decided such things are beyond me. Walking is one thing, something we shall no doubt resume when I get back to England – Walking Wednesdays have been a part of our lives for some time now, and needs to be maintained for various reasons – health, sociability (which is also health), etc.
Rested up, wrote, etc upon return, and later a most pleasant meal: I can enjoy the normal thakali diet once a day, but more than that is a struggle. Val and I are always served alone, though I am not sure that this is because of accepted culture, some (slightly misguided) sense of propriety, or sheer practicality. We would much prefer to eat alongside everyone else, but we are nervous of offending against any of the reasons mentioned above.
Afterwards, we did all gather to enjoy the small fire which is generally lit in the evening in the living area, just a small bonfire in the middle of the room, and without any obvious chimney (though somewhat surprisingly, there is rarely any problem with smoke.) Since, for once, Manos, Yogi’s wife was also with us, we decided this was a good opportunity to give out the presents that Val had brought out from England, chiefly some Oxford Uni branded stuff, plus a book for Dibyata.
And then, as usual, we repaired to the house next door to sleep. Apparently, it used to belong to the village goldsmith, but we have no idea who uses it now, or what has happened to them. Clearly, our room belongs to a school-age student, for her belongings are still there, but there is no sign of her. We arranged the blankets far more satisfactorily this time, which meant we were warm and slept well. But since we generally go to our beds at nine at the latest, it does tend to make for a very long night. And with a rather tortuous visit to the toilet. But still, it is a way for us to appreciate proper village life.
