TURBANS AND TRAVEL MEMORIES

 POST # 523

One of the pleasures of living in the area that I am currently at, is that a very significant part of the local population is Indian, like these gentlemen featured above.  On any given day, if I go to the local shopping centre, I'll find these guys hanging out together.  I love their colourful turbans.

It was their turbans that started me thinking about my travels in India way back when.  The year was 1980, and I was staying at a small hotel in the city of Jammu.  The owner of the place was a Sikh, and part of their culture is the wearing of a turban.  Being naturally curious, one evening I asked the owner how long it takes for him to wrap the turban around his head.  Without blinking, he just popped it off his head, like he was removing a hat.  That made both of us laugh out loud.  He proceeded to show me a variety of different coloured turbans, that were all pre-wrapped and ready to wear.  Pop one off, and put on another.  Since then, I've learned that some Sikhs prefer to wrap their turban each and every time they wear it, so I guess it's up to the individual.  The guy in Jammu obviously had better things to do with his precious time, than to spend a part of each morning wrapping his turban around his head.  When I think back on this little incident, it still makes me chuckle, and it was when I was sitting next to these men in the shopping centre, that this memory flashed back into my ageing brain.  

And that memory made me think of one more Indian related story from all those years ago.

I had finally returned to Canada, after being away for the better part of three years, and I arrived by train into Vancouver.  My friends Jim and Don whom I had met in Australia, both lived in Vancouver at the time.  It was the month of June, and I had departed India on Friday the 13th of that month, so India was still very much on my mind.  Jim and Don suggested that we go to an Indian restaurant called The Punjab for a meal.  We settled in at our table, and the Sikh waiter arrived to take our orders.  Eventually our food was brought out to us.  The waiter had to pass by a couple  seated at another table, and as the food passed them by, the woman seemed particularly interested to see what we had ordered.  The food was placed down in front of us, and without giving it a second thought, I proceeded to use my right hand to scoop up my food into my mouth.  After all, I had been doing this for months, so it just seemed normal to me.  The waiter saw this, and it put a big smile on his face, and he gave that little nod of the head that Indian people do so well.  He seemed very pleased to see me eating just like he would do on any given day.  That made me smile, but what made me laugh was when I looked over at the woman at the other table.  She was poking her partner in the arm, and with a disgusted look was pointing right at me.  Who knows what she thought about this uncouth  person eating with his bare hand.  My friends at the table also got a good laugh out of it, and if I remember correctly, I think that both Jim and Don after seeing me, also decided  to eat with their right hands.  After all, they had travelled in India as well, so this way of eating wasn't foreign to them.

The morning rain has now cleared, the bike beckons, and I need to do some shopping, so it's time to head out to the shopping centre, where I am quite sure I'll see my turbaned friends sitting at that very same table.  Perhaps they will help me recall a few more memories from long ago and far away.

grateful for every breath,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer