Bowls drying in the sun Clinton St. Quarterly—Summer, 1988 To draw on a chillum, the pipe must be held in such a way that smoke passes through the hands first, before entering the mouth. A smoker will use a corner of cloth to filter the smoke, but lips do not touch the cloth or the pipe itself. A natural mouthpiece is formed when all five fingers of a hand meet and touch tips, which are opened slightly to grip the cylindrical pipe so the other hand can curl around and seal all air leaks. The hands extend the shape and function of the pipe, and literally funnel the smoke. In the economy of necessity, hands maneuver without the aid of machinery, in fact, become the machinery and the utensils. Still another curious formation enables one to drink without the lips touching a glass, a practical act in a cas te -consc ious society. G lasses of water served to the public on train station platforms or by street vendors are poured from a glass lota into a palm cupped under the lower lip, which guides the liquid into the upended mouth. During one monsoon season I copied recipes from a book, translating the Hindi words in the glossary section. I learned the Hindi for m ilk—dudh, water—pan! and cardamon—ilyachi. I made deep- fried purl, rolling and rerolling the bread dough, a coating of oil followed each press of the rolling pin. To make a curry, gather the basic ingredients: onions, garlic, ginger, chilis. Chop onions coarsely and garlic finely. Sliver or grate an inch of the bulbous ginger root, and chop a hot chili into minute squares. These are the most basic steps. Subtle nuances of flavor are achieved in the sau- teeing process. The onions can first be fried in oil, the garlic a d d e d . . or, begin with garlic and add the peppers. . .the diversity accounts for the fact that no two curries taste alike, even though the ingredients are exact. Next add the spices. The generic curry powder sold in the supermarke ts of America does not exist in India. Rather, curry is a blend of specific powders: turmeric, cumin, coriander, chili and other odd sounding spices like fenugreek and asafetida. Some village women grind the turmeric, coriander and cumin on a stone mortar, mixing onions into a paste; others was easy . . on ly two words w ith a quizzical expression. As the merchant replied, he demonstrated. His hands gripped an imaginary round stick and rubbed it over a flat surface. I understood. Cooks rub oblong stones over stone surfaces, mixing and crushing, a variation of a mortar bowl and pes tle . The sp ices were labo r ious ly ground by hand, he implied, crushed by stone rubbing stone. Before I rented the room at the Burmese vihara, I traveled from place to place, staying in hostels and dharam- salas, and met many itinerant Shivite sadhus. They also have their specialized hand preparations. Forsaking utensils, except a fire tong, their communal smoke involves an elaborate sequence of ritualized hand preparations. To begin, as the dried ganja leaves are crumbled into a palm, large twigs are weeded out and discarded. Water is added—no doubt Ganges water adds an extra kick. With one hand acting as a bowl, the preparer rubs the thumb of the other hand back and forth, scrunching, pulverizing and mixing until the leaves not only absorb the moisture but the green color revives and the mixture atta ins a pas te - like cons istency. Bare hands perform the function of a mortar and pestle. In Tibetan and other languages the same word is used for drinking and smoking, as if smoke were a consumable, a substance imbibed like food or drink. In the ritual of smoke, as the preparer works diligently, patiently, others chant the names of Shiva, the Himalayan ascetic god who is the patron saint for the wandering ascetics who smoke as part of their worship. In a pantheon of luxurious, s i lk - ro b e d , flow e r-ado rned d e i t ie s , Shiva’s stark deerskin mat, dreadlocks and cotton loincloth stand out in sharp contrast. To mark off the chants, a rosary made of coarse rudraksha beads is rotated by the fingers of a hand, gently keeping time with the sung prayers. A roundish stone, an impediment to the mixture slipping down the hole, is inserted into a tubular clay pipe, wide at the head, narrow at the draw. Coconut husks, rolled into a tight ball, are first flung in the coals, then retrieved with a fire tong, and set atop the pipe. Women, s itt in g cro ss - legged on s traw mats sp read o ye r ea r th en floo rs , can r o ck and su ck le in fan ts in th e ir laps, as th e ir hands ten d a fire , shap e dough and co o k b read —a ll a t th e same time. T h e y move e f fo r t le s s ly from one ta sk to th e next.
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NTc4NTAz