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Breakfast in Chennai - India
by Michael Dales | Date >
2006-08-28 | Country : India | City : Chennai
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The lush tropical scenery of India\'s southwest coast gave way to the arid landscape of Tamil Nadu. Our bus raced east towards the city of Chennai (formerly Madras). Our driver dodged oncoming traffic by inches and honked at the slow moving ox pulling bullock carts. The bus driver used his horn as an alternative to braking, which seemed to be standard driving practice. The air was filled with noise. The blaring of the bus and car horns was the accompaniment to our lunch of chaptis and chutney which we ate out of plastic bags. In the midst of all this I was having trouble remembering why I had agreed to get on the bus. It was almost a mantra,
\Why did I get on the bus?
I tried to remind myself that I would soon be with Amma, my spiritual teacher. Amma is Holy Woman from a seaside village in southwestern Kerala, India who had taken to traveling the world to visit her devotees. She was returning from France by way of Chennai and we were on our way to welcome her back to India.
Manoharan, my seat mate was the only other American on the bus besides me. He patiently listened as I fantasized out loud about all the western food I was missing and kvetched about our current meal. In the past two months I had lost more than 15 pounds subsisting on local cuisine. Recently, my focus had been less and less on my spiritual practices and more on finding foods with protein and fat. Taking pity on me or to quell the stream of complaints, Manoharan told me about and agreed to take me to the Taj Hotel in Chennai. He told me that the hotel served an American style buffet breakfast.
We arrived at our accommodations just before daylight the following morning. After settling in and a quick nap we set off in search of breakfast. With little difficulty we found the hotel and made our way downstairs to the restaurant. Eureka! It was more than I had imagined. There were tables laid out with fruits, breads, meats, and cheeses. There was cereal, sweet rolls, juices, tea, and coffee. A cook made omelets to order and the only question was where to begin.
Well, I I began with an omelet with cheese and sausage and coffee and toast and sweet rolls. Then it was onto fruit, more cheese, more coffee, and more sweet rolls. After this came cereal, muffins, more fruit, and more coffee. The waiters stared at us with what must have been concern for our safety as we went back for plate after plate after plate. In this land where so many go without enough to eat we ate until it hurt- an uncomfortable irony. Afterwards we staggered out of the hotel and into a motorized rickshaw.
When we arrived back at the accommodations we were told that Amma\'s plane had landed and she was on her way. When she arrived I was waiting on the stairs leading to her room. I always loved to watch her make an entrance. She is visually deceptive. Barely five feet tall and slightly chubby, her diminutive stature belies the immense power within. Wearing her standard simple white sari she raced up the stairs, pausing momentarily to pat me on the head before hurrying on. Her ocher robbed swamis running to keep up pace with her quick, light steps.
I had just returned to my room when someone came in and said,
\Amma is calling you up to her room.\
I moved quickly despite my overstuffed belly. When I reached her bedroom I tried to slip in quietly and stand inconspicuously at the back of the room so as not to disturb the conversation in progress. She was speaking in Malayalam to the swamis while she teased the children sitting around her. For the sake of the few westerners in the room a swami translated the conversation into English. The discussion was a review of her trip to Europe for those who had stayed behind in India.
As the conversation wore on she looked slowly around the room. When she saw me standing at the back she paused, tilted her head, and a mischievous smile broke across her face.
\Eating?\ she asked in heavily accented English.
\What?\ I was caught of guard and could not hide it.
She laughed deeply.
\Eating?\ she asked again laughing even harder as my face turned red as it dawned on me that she seemed to know how glutinous I had been that morning.
Giggling and speaking in Malayalam she told the swamis how I had been complaining and exactly what I had done. They turned to look at me laughing. A swami translated what she was saying causing the children sitting around her to laugh.
Finally, the swami who had been translating turned to me and said,
\Amma would like to know if you had a good breakfast.
\Yes, I did. Thank you.
This made everyone laugh even harder.
Without being in her physical presence she somehow she knew exactly what I had done. I felt she was giving me a playful glimpse into her extraordinary nature. In the years to come many more experiences would afford me more opprotunity to experience her unearthly power.
After the laughter had died down she called us for darshan, that is to receive her blessing. We formed a small queue before her in order to be hugged by her. When I reached her she held me by her side for several long moments. I felt myself dissolve into her being. She gave me another quick hug and a kiss on the cheek leaving me nearly unable to stand. I was overwhelmed by the silence and bliss inside of me.
Now I knew why I had gotten on the bus.
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