Blessed Bananas

The dog, Uma, has introduced me to a whole new set of friends on my little lane in Khar (Mumbai). In the house to the right is a little boy, about 3 years old, with curly brown hair who screams DOGGIEEEEEE every time we walk outside. Down the way are some girls who love petting Uma on their way to school. And across the lane, just caddycorner to me, is a saintly man--literally, he is a disciple of one of these big-time gurus--who is obsessed with Uma. He is skinny yet supple, has a long wispy grey beard, and long grey head of hair, and he just scoops her up in his arms, and pets her vigorously. When he puts her down, he says, "See, she's happy now."

Tonight he invited Uma for a walk in his garden, and invited me along as her chaperone, although he made me let go of the leash and just drop it on the ground. "She won't go anywhere. She knows this place is good. Dogs know. They know good people from bad." He was right. She didn't run away. Just went around mouthing his plants, tasting the leaves with her tongue, but not biting them.

He invited her inside his house, which is filled with cats, and whose focal point is a small smoking shrine. The wooden shrine hangs on the wall, and incense pipes out of it throughout the day. He reached his index finger into a little pot sitting on the ledge of the shrine, and with his finger, he marked Uma's forehead--a blessing. Then, he did the same to mine, giving me a white dot above and between my eyes. Then he gave me two small fat bananas, as "prasad," an item that is first offered to a deity, then consumed.

I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do with the bananas, as I knew that they were blessed bananas and I felt that they would be wasted on me. What are these, I asked? He said, "These are bananas. Have you not seen them before?" No, yes, I have, but what should I do with them? It seemed bad to just polish them off. Shouldn't they sit on a shelf somewhere, I thought? "You eat them," he said. "Have you had them before?"

The man thinks that he is introducing me to an entirely new fruit.

I swallowed my smile, and said thank you. He asked us to sit down. Uma would have loved to. I wouldn't have minded. But, we needed to go. I hated to tell him why--how do you tell a saint that you're about to be late for a Skype conference call? Particularly when he's just given you the fruit of the Gods? Priorities. A message from above, me thinks.