20 Jan 2008

I am writing with my still-yellowed turmeric-stained hands as evidence of my participation in the Rahu Puja this morning. And I have learned that when one waits for breakfast and arrives late for one’s veggie chopping seva, one has a greater chance of receiving the dullest knife, the largest cabbage, and a lovely spot in the direct sun on a steeply-slanted dirt slope. With cutting boards balanced precariously on our laps and a new appreciation for the stubbornness of cabbage, we chanted softly to Archana (chanted by the men this time around) and then to the local women two tents down chopping and singing folk songs as they worked.

Darshan ended around 4am this morning. With one of the last stage seva shifts and first veggie chopping shifts, I unwittingly created a bit of a sleep-cycle dilemma for myself. Luckily, Amma’s shakti knows no limits of day, night, eating, and sleeping.

I spent my early morning hours wiping women’s faces before they received darshan. I tried to be as delicate as possible with this rough piece of Indian tissue that I used to trace their cheekbones, noses, foreheads, and chins – all shapes, sizes, textures, colors, ages. It is an incredibly intimate seva, and for a few minutes in the night, I found the roles reversed when a group of Indian women became inquisitive about my light skin and they stroked my cheeks as I did theirs. Later, looking at Amma’s sari at the end of the night – a performance piece with oil, sandalwood, and turmeric – I wondered if my seva had done anything at all.

Kate – USA