Jodhpur Twilight

Dusk turns the Brahmin-blue buildings a deeper shade of blue.

Pale as morning sky in the harsh mid-day sun, at twilight the buildings and homes seem to suck the last indigo rays of the darkening sky, blazing radiant for a brief moment before night shadows the world and the spotlights are turned on the Mehrangarh Fort.

I"m the only person seated at this rooftop restaurant enjoying the spectacle of light and shade and sound.  And I"m perfectly at peace.  And thrilled.

I remember the sad, anxious, neurotic young woman I used to be, terrified to be alone.  Now I've learned to savor my aloneness.   I sit in luxuriant equanimity, my past left behind in the States.  I think about one of the things I've read about sadhus.  You cannot ask them about their past.

From below me, children beat drums throughout the warrens of narrow lanes.  Their excitement grows as Holi approaches. Already they leap and hop through the lanes, chattering and laughing as they practice with empty magnum water guns for that day when their guns will be filled with paint.

The aroma of mustard seeds crackling in hot oil rises up from the kitchens below.

My waiter and cook emerges from the steps. His name is Sunil.  He stands staring out at the fort as he shares his story with me.  

"I'm from Pokhara, in Nepal," he tells me.  "Not like India there.  Green. Beautiful.  Now it's three years I am in India.  But end of this month I go back for a visit. I miss my family."

He tells me he has six sisters and one little brother who is five-years-old.  "I come here to work. Here I can make money for my family. In Nepal.  No work.  No money."

He invites to come to his home in Pokhara.  "You will like it Madame.  Everyone there very friendly.  Very nice.  You stay with my family."

I thank him for his generous invitation, but explain it's not possible.


"Okay," he says.  "Maybe next time."