Red and Green ChRISHIKESH

Very nice to wake to clear, warm skies on this Rishikesh Christmas morning. The day started with a sugar-bomb and a cup of coffee at the Swiss Cottage Bakery. Doris (a German tourist) handed out the coconut treats to diners, "Feliz Navidad"s were exchanged between spanairds in the adjacent booth, and the Hindu Times mentioned nothing of the western holiday. I strolled across the Ram Jula (Bridge) delighted by the abundant sunshine and the absence of monkeys screeching along the rails. I bought a flower boat and made my way to the water----I kicked off my adidas court shoes, rolled up my pants and entered the water between a bathing saddhu and a woman doing laundry---my flower boat filled with marigolds and incense sailed down the river with a prayer sent from the Ganges and around the world to my family. Last night, I was feeling a little empty and far from loved ones---Good fortune delivered me an ashram flier invited me to spend Christmas Eve with the Sivananda community where a "holiday program" promised to fill our stainless steel cups with cheer. It was somewhat surreal-----Silent night sung by Hindus, monks, westerners, Japanese, and the homeless----readings by swamis about the significance of Christ's birth, and the promise that comes with the magic of Christmas morning---Cultural dances were performed and an evergreen tree, dressed in a string of short circuiting colored lights-stood next to an altar with Krishna, Christ and Swami SHivananda-ji---conch shells and temple bells, Hare Oms, Namastes, and prasad (blessed sweets) were all shared amongst strangers feeling very close to one another so far from home. On the way back to my room, an anonymous passanger paid my rickshaw fare, and the change in my pocket rained on a sleeping man wrapped in a blanket on the road. Santa is everywhere.
Today, Diwari's family invited me over for Christmas Lunch----the traditional fare, of course,-----as the guest, I was served mounds and mounds of spinach, sabji, chapatti, biryani, dal, raddish, onion, and carrot pudding---We took chai in the parlor and talked about how good the man Obama is. When the conversation slowly slipped from English back to Hindi, I took this as my signal to exit-----holding back my tears of gratitude, I thanked them and said my final good-bye to my family away from family---their heads wiggled.