Ram and I are sitting on the verandah in front of our hotel room in Pune, sipping our drinks. It is a cool, pleasant night and except for the usual nocturnal sounds, relatively quiet. In the far distance, we can see the lights of Pune railway station.
The day has been uneventful. The demo has gone well and the customer and his daughter have gone back to Pune.
We have chanced upon this hotel quite by accident. It is an old colonial mansion converted into a boarding house. Set amidst a spacious but rundown garden full of fruit trees, the hotel could well be mistaken for a government guest house somewhere in deep country.
We do not talk much. We have been in high school together and also went to the same engineering college. We have been friends for almost a decade now. It is a relaxed camaraderie that puts no pressure on us to fill the natural breaks in conversation with unnecessary words. We sit and drink in companionable silence.
Next day, after a late breakfast, we set about exploring the city. Our wanderings finally take us to Koregaon Park and to the imposing gates of Rajneesh Ashram. We loiter about but feel inhibited to go in.
This is the time when Pune is awash in saffron. Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (he was yet to become “Osho” then,) is in residence and the city is full of his foreign devotees in ochre or saffron robes of various hues. There are bearded men with shaven heads, women with marigolds in their hair and beads around their necks, walking, cycling, or zipping past in motorcycles.
Hardly a year later, I will get the opportunity to visit the ashram again, but that visit deserves a post of its own, hence I will not talk about it now.
We take a taxi back in the evening. It is sunset in the Western Ghats and the hills are aflame in an orange afterglow.
It reminds me of Rajneesh’s followers.
The day has been uneventful. The demo has gone well and the customer and his daughter have gone back to Pune.
We have chanced upon this hotel quite by accident. It is an old colonial mansion converted into a boarding house. Set amidst a spacious but rundown garden full of fruit trees, the hotel could well be mistaken for a government guest house somewhere in deep country.
We do not talk much. We have been in high school together and also went to the same engineering college. We have been friends for almost a decade now. It is a relaxed camaraderie that puts no pressure on us to fill the natural breaks in conversation with unnecessary words. We sit and drink in companionable silence.
Next day, after a late breakfast, we set about exploring the city. Our wanderings finally take us to Koregaon Park and to the imposing gates of Rajneesh Ashram. We loiter about but feel inhibited to go in.
This is the time when Pune is awash in saffron. Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (he was yet to become “Osho” then,) is in residence and the city is full of his foreign devotees in ochre or saffron robes of various hues. There are bearded men with shaven heads, women with marigolds in their hair and beads around their necks, walking, cycling, or zipping past in motorcycles.
Hardly a year later, I will get the opportunity to visit the ashram again, but that visit deserves a post of its own, hence I will not talk about it now.
We take a taxi back in the evening. It is sunset in the Western Ghats and the hills are aflame in an orange afterglow.
It reminds me of Rajneesh’s followers.
2 comments:
Hi Rada:
Thanks a lot for viewing my posts and your comment was valuable. I really appreciate it!!!!
Yellow !
Thanks for the advice , i guess i need to think more to rhyme :) , i also like it sometimes ... (i didnt intend this to rhyme but rhyme it does ) ....
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