Simple

                I’m sitting in my Dharamsala bed listening to the neighbors Tibetan flute music waft into my window as it does every night. Tonight, however, the sweet notes that are falling from the flute are pulling at my heartstrings a little. I have three more nights and two more days here and I know that some very tough goodbyes linger in my near future. When I was leaving today, Dhondulp told me that he already feels sad and the old familiar lump that has been dormant for a month rose up to its comfy place in the back of my throat. But, not going to think of that now, I have two more whole days with him. We are planning friend time in addition to our “class time” so I will be spending the majority of the next two days with him.

                I’ve discovered the word that describes all of my favorite aspects of India. Simple. The houses in Dharamsala all seem to have the basics, the necessities. No more and no less. The shops are tiny, they fit about three people in their walls and have a small amount of a few things. My yoga studio is a concrete room with peeling blue paint on the walls and blankets on the floor. My bedroom has three little beds each with suitcases under them and I feel that I could live extravagantly with only the things in my suitcase for the rest of my life. The cafes are basic offering enough to meet everyone’s needs but not too much as to overwhelm the customer with decisions. No establishments offer “take out” as this place is very much a café culture as well as mindful about reusing everything as to cut back on the amount of litter in the streets. So, coffee and mealtime is simple because you have no choice but to sit at a table and enjoy your food or drink in the shop which forces you to slow down and reflect on your day thus far.

                When I say that Dhondulp is also very simple I need to say that it’s in a good way, in an intelligent way. He’s so present and simple that he cannot grasp that things he sees on the internet or hears from his friends could possibly be untrue. For example, his friend showed him a picture of what I’m assuming is a guy joking around dressed as a monk drinking a beer. He said “Kristen, monks aren’t supposed to drink beer and this one was!” I tried to explain that it was a joke and he said “no I saw the photo.” I legitimately couldn’t get him to believe that someone would dress up as a monk as a joke. A few days ago he told me that he and I are going to get really fat from laughing too much. I said “what!?” He said, “my Mom said that if you laugh too much you get fat.” He also added that his best friend laughs more than anyone he knows and he’s really fat. I told him to tell me via skype if I’m getting fat and I’ll try to stop laughing. This caused us to laugh for a few minutes so I think we are just going to have to accept our future fatness because all we do is laugh when we are together.

                Dhondulp also reiterated stories that his friends have told him and he told me that they have to be true because his friend said it was true. Simple as that. However, I don’t want to risk making this man, who has a PHD in Buddhism science which means he is a master of physics, sound uneducated. So I want to leave it at this: I envy the fact that life’s suffering, sadness, deceit, and cruelty hasn’t been able to reach in to the monastery and get its blistered and worn out fingers on my dear friend Dhondulp. His naivety and simple way of looking at things is magical and a skill that I envy but don’t think I will ever be fortunate enough to possess.

                Today Dhondulp and I were talking about American things as he wants to come to America again and promises to stay with me. On the first day we met I told him my favorite food is pumpkin pie and he remembered it and asked if I would make him pumpkin pie. I find monks to be the most attentive, well mannered and chivalrous people I’ve met. Too bad they had to take vows of celibacy because they would make good boyfriends. Dhondulp doesn’t let me leave his room empty handed. I always come home with snacks and books to share with the girls. He gets offended if I try to pay when we go out for coffee, lunch, or dessert. He tells the waiter “madam wants…….” And proceeds to order for me and will even pick what I eat if I’m overwhelmed by the fact that I don’t’ recognize any of the foreign dishes on menus. He also always tells them “she is vegetarian, please don’t let any meat touch her food!” Though attentive, the girls and I are in unanimous agreement that for some reason, monks come across as “asexual.”

                Back to Dhondulp, me, and American food. Today I was trying to explain buffalo wings to him. Quote of the day is “Kristen, I don’t think I want this.” I guess it is burgers and pumpkin pie for Dhondulp when he comes to visit… Shortly after our food discussion, our words quickly flowed in to a more serious tone. I told him that I’m a little worried to go home because I don’t know how the contrast will feel and I have no plan of what to do with my life. I told him maybe I would stay in Dharamsala and shave my head and become a nun. He said this was not necessary, that I already think like a monk or a nun. He said that I am present in my moments and I do enjoy my life from the small things to the big. He said that even though I don’t have a shaved head, I’m like him and we will always be the same and we will always live a simple life that we enjoy. Then he gave me more books on Buddhist philosophy so I can keep learning at home and then ask him questions via email and skype because he will be asking me questions about his English.

                Teaching English is such an interesting experience.  I have to constantly pause and contemplate things about my language that I just know, I just learned without explanation. Today I was helping Dhondulp with past tense. A lot of times he just doesn’t use it or if he does he puts ed on the end of irregular verbs. I’m really starting to hate irregular verbs by the way. They aren’t fair. They are rule breakers. They are so confusing for people who are trying to learn our language. How do you explain to a monk that “eated” is not correct but “started” is. Or that “goed” isn’t a word when “played” is correct. So for tonight’s homework, Dhondulp is probably in his little dorm right now making sentences out of all his new irregular verbs in past tense. Bought not buyed, went not goed, drove not drived…… There are about thirty that I put on that list by the way….

                After another lovely day of café hopping, Dhondulp discussions, and Dharamsala basking, I went to my yoga class. I got there late so I had to be up front by the teacher which is nerve racking but oh well, I was just so happy to be there. The teacher has got to be in his 60’s and he looks like Ghandi. The man moves like I’ve never seen yoga teachers move in America. He must be a master of the masters and I feel so lucky to be going to his classes. At the end of every class he chants for 15 minutes and I know I’ve said this before but my soul really does leave my body. It goes somewhere so magical that it can’t tell me what it saw, what it was doing why Ghandi teacher talked to it with his chanting. All I know is I open my eyes and I think “huh, I have no idea where I just came from.” Then I walk in to the streets in a stoned daze and have to be woken by the sound of beeping car horns.