my room in khalini

Let me take stock of my room. The toilet won’t flush, the sink doesn’t work, the hot water heater drips constantly, the door locks me in if I’m not careful, the curtains provide no privacy from a somewhat busy thoroughfare, and the temple across the street means people are ringing bells from about 5am, at odd, unpredictable intervals. It’s still one of my favorite places I’ve stayed, probably because the bed is pretty comfortable, with its two thick non-woolen covers. There are also no pillowcases on the two dingiest looking pillows I’ve ever seen, but I’ve covered them up with the covers, so it’s OK.

Now I’m sitting, waiting for Madhu and Rakesh’s ride. M and I spent the morning together, speaking broken English, but managing to at lest communicate our mutual good will. She seems kind and patient. She was going to take me to the temple across the street, where her husband was, ut at the last minute asked if I’d had eggs for breakfast. I had, so I couldn’t go in, but I’d rather not go in than offend anyone’s gods. It doesn’t quite seem fair that I’m so close to pure veg and can’t at least poke my head in. It looks quite small and unimpressive, though, so I’ll pretend I’m not missing much.