Sweetness and Laughter

The soundtrack of India makes me laugh joyfully. The moment that is NOW is hilarious: may it sweep me away into invisible vapor and carry me to golden edges of your smile.

On the edge of one of the holiest lakes in Northern India is an espresso shop run by one of the Buddhist monasteries. EMAHO, it is called: means WONDERFUL. And as I let the hazy sunshine carry my smile into the trees with birdsong and vicious monkey screeches, I celebrate the appropriateness of the shop name: Wonderful, indeed.

Track One: "As Long As You Love Me" by the Backstreet Boys plays its catchy adolescent heartstrings as Amit makes a shot of espresso. We sing and dance our way through the middle-school chart-topper and I cannot help but laugh at the sweet irony: espresso and boy-band sing-a-long with a Buddhist monk wearing his red robe and Nike tennis-shoes. For the past two days, Amit has inquired about Yoga poses for getting rid of his belly. "Now remember, " he says, "I'm lazy. So these poses must be ones I can do while sitting down and relaxing." I laugh and tell him to turn the music up and keep dancing: "Dance your big belly away!"

Many Buddhist Monks enter the monastic life at 5 or 6 years-old. Traditionally, the second son in a Tibetan family enters the monastery -- a practical way of carrying on the lineage of the Great Masters. And so, not all monks take vows because they feel called to do so; often time, young boys take vows because it is their duty to do so or because their poor family knows that the monastery will be able to feed and care for their child better than they. Five year-old boys grow into young adolescents who love Michael Jackson and World Cup Soccer. Pop-culture zeal does not mean they are any less devoted to their practice; it just means they are human and go through the same developmental stages that we all do. Amit could likely be one of the brother monks who entered the monastery as a toddler: would he choose his vows if given the chance? Maybe; maybe not.

And so, at the risk of being immodest and furthering the stereotype that all western women are flirtatious and easy, I show the coffee-shop monks a few Michael Jackson moves. What can I say? They love to dance. It's hard for me to put on a stone-cold face when I, too, cannot help but feel the beat in my pulsing feet.

Track two: One of the theme songs from The World Cup, South Africa. How ironic that, should I have spent the last few months in Virginia, where my media use is limited, I probably would not have learned the uplifting tune so well. But, in the remote mountains of Western Nepal, thanks to the Nepali porters' mp3 players and enthusiasm and on the shores of Lake Rewalsar in Himachal Pradesh, India, thanks to monks who dream of being hip-hop dancers, I am kept up to date on the latest hits. This is the world we live in -- a universal access to a new global culture that is arriving even to the most remote villages in the world. In Himachal Pradesh, traveling 150 km still takes 8 hours in a bus, but cyber connections to the other side of the world: instantaneous! I do not think I will ever stop regarding our futuristic technology as a strange sort of magic: a connection that seems so unlikely at the touch of a button?

And there goes the sweet old man whose glasses are bigger than his sun-wrinkled face. He walks with an umbrella, rain or shine, and, like Don Quixote and the Windmills, battles the lakeside monkeys with the same knightly zeal. Of course, he is not all there, but this village holds a place for him. The monkeys are fierce, the people are sweet, the energy of the low clouds is peaceful and subdued. Even the bicycle tires relax and the kids learn to ride the sand-paper sound of deflated tread. I say hello to Don Quixote and offer a friendly smile. He greets me with an enthusiastic whack of his umbrella and I laugh, feeling honored to be knighted by his imaginary sword. No, this is not a circus act or a simulated comedy show. This is NOW: morning at Rewalsar Lake -- a lost town in the hills of Himachal Pradesh where thousands of pilgrims come to lower their humble heads in prayer.