recipe for beans. Likewise foraged weeds for cabbage. Some sweet dishes I made for friends. Not far from my room, behind the temple at Shivala ghat on the Ganges, was a government shop that sold coarse, dried ganja by the tola. Many times I watched the shopkeeper gallantly flip a silver rupee, the equivalent of a tola weight of half an ounce, onto one of the heavy metal dishes of an old-fashioned balance scale. With one hand he held up the bar which suspends the two dishes, and with the other he dropped the dried ganja from a metal scoop until the dishes balanced in the air. Then he deftly tilted the dish with the contents.into a sheet of newsprint. With the expertise of a kitemaker, he folded and refolded the paper into a tight packet. Some afternoons his wife worked in the shop, but she didn’t have the same finesse of measurement. She waved me over one day and urged me to try a sweet from a large tray she had on the counter. They were a dull greenish color, roughly cut into squares with a few slivers of almonds on top. “ Have one,” she smiled. I was such a frequent passerby, it was quite usual for shopkeepers to motion me over, say hello or try and converse. I bit into one and was taken aback by the chewy, somewhat bitter taste. She had made the sweets with some of the ganja, creating a type of brownie, quite intoxicating. One bite was enough. But she put an idea into my head. A swami I knew named Ganesh Baba was very fond of all types of ganja. A retired attorney from Bombay, he had adopted the guise of a naga baba, the crazy, nearly naked ascetics who smoke as part of their worship. He boasted he could smoke one hundred chillums a day, and religiously started smoking early each morning and continued late into the night, freely sharing with whoever came by. I don’t know if he ever managed to smoke a hundred pipes a day, but he did give another English sadhu a ritual pipe that was over twelve-inches long and took two tolas to even fill up the bowl. One puff from this pipe was legendary. illlllllllllllilililllllillllllllllllllllllllllllllll Ganesh spoke a curious anomaly of Anglo-English legalese and street sadhu. He blasted a nonstop stream of blasphemous, abusive insults to all and sundry. He believed himself to be a wrathful emanation of one of the blood-thirsty deities. More intrigued with his sweet side, I decided to prepare a dessert dish for Ganesh Baba. Ladhoo, made from besan—chickpea flour—was a rich and not too compliShops d isp lay p la t te r s tow e r in g w ith sw ee ts en t in to squares , some co v e red w ith a d e l ica te la y e r o f s ilver f i l ig re e wh ich is con s id e red to b e a m ed icina l o r aph rod is iac . When on ce I tr ie d th e s ilver , th e m e ta l v io len t ly r e a c te d w ith my fillings, send ing w aves o f pa in th ro u g h o u t my mouth . cated sweet. Like halvah, which is gently sauteed in butter—ghee—to bring out a rich, roasted flavor, maybe the ganja could be substituted for some of the flour. It was worth a try. Careful not to lean too far over the wok and inhale the potent herb as it sauteed in rich ghee, I subtly altered the ladhoo recipe. I sample as I cook; how else to tell exactly what’s going on? I was soon overcome with drowsiness and couldn’t finish the final touches of rolling the sweet into balls before I had to curl up on the straw mat. I fell into a busy doze watching ara- besque-like paisleys and geometric mandalas whirl on the surface of my usually bare, white wall. When I awoke a pariah dog was gobbling up the last of the ladhoos. After that Ganesh left on a pilgrimage. I grew fond of giving gifts of sweet dishes. ■■■■■ For a Chinese yogi named Chen who migrated to a spot in the Himalayas where the peaks dominated his horizon ‘ like arms embracing,’ I decided an American candy would be a unique present, so I made fudge. I had to pack it carefully in a box so it wouldn’t crush on the walk from Darjeeling to Kalimpong— roughly seven hours on foot. One Christmas I located a recipe for fruit cake. Since I had no oven, I placed << rflNhdlHhtiB iillh M A rib iiM rib tin cans in a boiling pan of water and steamed for three hours. I made two cakes using dried pineapple instead of maraschino cherries and dried papaya bits in place of apricots. One cake I kept and the other I gave to an American scholar who lived in the same village of Sarnath, India, about ten miles outside of Benares. He was immensely touched by this gesture, and will gladly repeat the story when asked, since it is the story of falling in love with the woman he later asked to be his wife. I ntriguingly enough, my daughter chose to take woodshop rather than cooking, while my son, growing up with a love of good eating, picked the cooking class. When I teach my children how to make a curry, I will not stress the ingredients. There is ample room for varying spices, vegetables, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIffl water and cooking time. Later, perhaps, they’ ll ask about my Indian adventure and I’ll explain how to build a fire from wood and cow dung chips. Rather, I’ ll encourage them to create their own innovations, develop a reckless fearlessness in selecting unusual ingredients. And a fearlessness also in allowing the time and energy to prepare a dish whether for themselves or for someone else. In the overall scheme of cooking, I’ ll tell them, even the smallest gestures have enormous impact. Like a Buddhist meditation, even if the hands are engaged in tedious preparations, the mind is still free. . to imagine, ritualize and empower the substances and actions. With an enlightened attitude, a preparer of substances taken into the body can attain a satisfaction which lasts longer than any dish, and transcends the momentary pleasures of taste. Writer Marilyn Stablein lives in Seattle. This story is from a collection called Deceptions and Intrigues, which is currently in search of a publisher. Her last story in CSQ was “Night Travels in Tibet. She is director of The Literary Center in Seattle. Artist C.T. Chew lives in Seattle and has recently returned from a year’s sojourn in Nepal. His last CSQ contribution was the cover of the Spring 1988 issue. — ROADWAY IMPORT AUTO SERVICE SPECIALIZING IN: DATSUN • HONDA • TOYOTA • VOLVO • Tune-Up • Brake Work • Engine Repair • D.E.Q. • Front End Repair • Struts • Shocks • Electrical • Steering • Transmissions • Turbo’s • Lubrication Robert Downey, Owner Hours M-F 7am-6pm 282-0817 3001 NE BROADWAY HUMAN RELATIONS INSTITUTE MA DEGREE PROGRAM IN COUNSELING PSYCHOLOGY D eg ree S pe c ia liza t ion in DEPTH PSYCHOLOGY INCORPORATING DEPTH TRADITIONS WITH THE PRACTICE OF COUNSELING PSYCHOLOGY The Human Relations Institute's prog ram in counseling psycho logy strives to rea ffilia te psycho logy with the humanities. In a un ique a p p ro a ch to the study o f psycho therapy, the p rog ram is des igned around an in terd isc ip linary curricu lum tha t includes, in a d d i tion to tra in ing in ind iv idua l a n d fam ily psycho therapy, the study of dep th psycho log ica l trad itions, art a n d mytho logy MONTHLY WEEKEND COURSES In add it ion to co re a n d ad jun c t faculty, d istinguished lecturers and therapists from the f ie ld o f Depth Psychology con tr ibu te to the pro gram . These have in c luded James Hillman. Charles Ponce, Linda Leonard, Marion W oodman an d Robert Stein NOW ENROLLING FOR FALL For a ca ta lo g : HUMAN RELATIONS INSTITUTE, 5200 Hollister Avenue. Santa Barbara. CA 93111 (805) 967-4557 Clinton St. Quarterly—Summer, 1988 29
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