n.19 ”The surprising virtues of a poor muslim man with the heart bigger than the indian ocean”


We met at a street corner quite by accident about two months ago. So many circumstances had to come together for the stars to align for us to be at the same place, at the same time. Chance had nothing to do with it.

It was destiny. I am sure of it.

Our friendship deepens each day that passes. In his company, I agin in dignity and personal sovereignty. Abdul, an old ayurvédic doctor as poor as an old rusty nail at the bottom of a drawer but such richness emanates from this man, I am perpetually taken aback by it.

A smile going up all the way to his eyes. Constantly benevolent there’s no other like him.

Everyone from around here knows him. They all say he’s an honorable man with a good heart. Always happy to be of service. A mala in hand, prayer is never far from his lips. He’s got such a devotion towards his god, it’s contagious.

We throw at each other an endless amount of ‘’Inshallah’’ and ‘’Devam anygrèykète at each occasion. (To the rhythm of God and God bless you)

Last week, he showed me around the neighborhood. The first day, we walked for 7 hours straight. At last some exercise worth mentioning. I’ve been waiting for that one.

Once at Kovalam beach, a prayer of mine got answered: a true double espresso.
It’s hard to describe the effect of a double espresso in a body that hasn’t seen any real coffee in over 3 months. It’s as if my body and mind fused perfectly whilst being jolted by 35 000 volts of lightning.

I could not hold myself. I whipped out my banjo and played ravenously for an hour and a half straight without stopping. All that in front of a magnificent beach, tenderly cradled by sea winds and the sound of waves.

Paradise.

Abdul’s sister, Fatima, is the owner of a house on a mountain overlooking the ocean. It never got finished due to lack of funding and left to itself. Me and Abdul we’ll build a bathroom, a shower and a bedroom. The house shall be mine for my time here.

There are encounters that change us, that won’t allow us to remain the old and pushes us towards another level of personal freedom. My meeting with Abdul is one of those.

The kindness, generosity and unconditional love is contagious. I am now infected and for sure will propagate this fever to all those who cross my path.

N.16 ‘’Black hole coffee’’

I’ve finally found it!
The one drink up to the task of raising the dead. I found it at a tiny street corner shop.
Finally a beverage that delivers a true kick in the face. I’m not sure the exact mixture but it bears the name ‘’ginger tea’’.

Pretty common, right?
Ah! How wrong I was.
Just a defenseless little ginger tea I thought. That’ll be a good digestive after supper.
That night I could not fall asleep.

I tried again the next day. At 2 pm.
That gives me ample time to digest it fully and fall asleep peacefully come night time.
Wrong again!
At last, a true contender.

I had been told, before coming here, South India is home of some of the best coffee on the planet. I had high hopes. They all came crashing down. Until now, I’ve only come across instant coffee or a mixture of 50/50 chicory and coffee. Disappointing to say the least.

With the English language, I can communicate with most people and be understood.
But for some reason, when I say: ‘’strong black coffee, no extra water, no milk, no sugar, please’’ It seems to go right by and I get an instant sugary abomination.

And so, I gave up trying.

You see, I don’t really drink ‘’coffee’’. I drink motor oil.
I enjoy my coffee so strong it makes the nearby flies die of heart attacks just by the smell of it. Come to think of it, there was one instance where I found satisfaction.

After visiting a temple with my friend Javi, we went to a nearby restaurant.
I went with my usual routine. ‘’strong black coffee, no extra water. no sugar, no milk, please’’

The waiter came back giggling.
They don’t get that sort of madness often I think.
He looks at me with huge eyes and says ‘’strong black coffee’’ while handing me the one thing I had been longing for: Motor oil.

A coffee so black, time disappears in it. My god, what a grand moment!
It’s the little things in Life, my friend.
It’s the little things.