Custard and kindness

Typical music stall Gokarna town

My much loved travel guitar had a broken tuning peg, the damage likely happened on the journey from Kerala to Goa. It was unplayable and needed attention.  

I took it to one of the music stalls in Gokarna town, where you can buy drums, assorted percussion and Indian made guitars of questionable quality at very high prices. 

The stallholder examined it at length. Turning it over in his hands, squinting at the damaged peg through one eye, strumming the strings. He then rummaged in a plastic bag of assorted fixings, produced a dodgy looking substitute and assured me that his brother could fix it, for a fee of sixteen hundred rupees. 

I got the impression that he had never undertaken such a repair before but was bold enough to attempt it and wanted to score a high fee. So despite the guy’s noisy blustering and indignation I walked away.

It didn’t take long to locate an alternative, a skilled guitar technician at Furtado’s Music Store in Margao, Goa’s second city. A two hour train ride from Gokarna - neat. I packed an overnight bag and took the early morning Konkan Express.

Furtado's music store

The staff at Furtado’s were polite, knowledgeable and reassuring. I sighed as I told the assistant that it had most probably got damaged during travel and that I had been thinking I needed a hard case.  He smiled warmly at me, there was kindness in his eyes,

 

This just happens you know, things get broken.

Wow, in a flash of insight I realised that I had coloured the situation with negativity and self-judgement. So insidious I couldn’t see it.

I was blaming myself for the damage, telling myself that it was preventable and I should have taken steps to prevent it. This gentle man’s generosity had enabled me to see it and I preferred his perspective: things break, it happens, it’s ok.
 

The compassion of others has become something of a theme on this trip. The acceptance of others opens the space for me to accept myself and their kindness a reminder to be tender and gentle with myself.

I sat in an air conditionned sound booth, surrounded by beautiful guitars from the finest international brands, Taylor, Martin, Gibson, Fender. From the showroom on the upper floor came the calming sound of piano music, a schoolgirl practising Chopin for her grade exam. 

In this refined, exquisite environment I felt safe and relaxed and marvelled at my good fortune that this place existed, it was exactly what was needed. 

The technician wanted to change all six tuning pegs. 

All of them? Only one is broken 

I felt wobbly and tearful. How much was this going to cost??
 

It’s a better set, higher quality. Cost will be nine hundred and seventy five rupees to supply and one hundred for the work. 

I gaped. My guitar would be getting an upgrade for around fifteen pounds. An absolute bargain and a totally positive outcome.  It would be ready the following day so I checked into a hotel, conveniently inside the shopping complex. Clean white sheets, plump pillows, room service and cable ­television: I was going to enjoy myself. A copy of Indian OK! magazine sat invitingly on the nightstand, my set of guilty pleasures was complete!

The next morning I attempted to order my preferred healthy breakfast: fruit salad. The telephone in the room didn’t work so I shuffled to reception in my bath robe. 

No madam, fruit salad not possible morning time. You take toast and butter or Indian breakfast. 

I love south Indian breakfasts, but they don’t agree with me. At Anandashram in Kerala I had eaten so many I began to resemble an idli : white, spongy and round. I needed my fruit!

I dressed, slipped out of the hotel and took a seat in a very good restaurant just around the corner. Fruit salad on the menu, as a dessert Yes!  I hoped that they could prepare it as a breakfast dish for me.

Fruit salad possible now? 

Yes, now is possible. With ice cream?

No ice cream. Fruit salad only. And one masala tea without sugar.

The waiter wrote my order on a pad and sent it to the kitchen. I was quite hungry and imagining how great my breakfast was going to taste, sweet chunks of pineapple, juicy papaya, creamy banana and maybe some grainy chickoo too...

Ten minutes later a small bowl was set in front of me. Cubes of fruit swimming in a pool of rich, creamy goo. I went in with my spoon. A very sweet, milky custard. Quelle horreur!

I gestured to the waiter.

I asked for fruit salad only, what is this?

Fruit salad, madam.

There is some custard also?

Yes, this is how it is coming.

I can’t eat this, it has sugar inside.

This is how it is coming.

He left to attend to other customers. I was fuming with indignation and self-righteousness - I was so clearly in the right and the waiter was at fault for misintepreting my order. I contemplated dropping a twenty rupee note for my tea and walking out. But at the same time, I knew there was another angle, a higher perspective. There was no right or wrong, it was a genuine, mutual misunderstanding, a culture clash.

To my western mind, fruit salad means fruit and nothing else. But Indians love the sweet taste and use sugar liberally. The fruit salad was listed as a dessert. I remembered that I was paying an extra five rupees to have my tea without sugar. 

Still hungry, and feeling more peaceful, I waved the waiter over again.

I cannot eat this, what to do?

He swiped the bowl away, clearly annoyed, but with a professional demeanour.

Next time you ask for plain.

Thank you. How very gracious of him, I thought.

He resubmitted my order to the kitchen, I could hear him discussing the matter with the other waiters, they were staring at me through the serving hatch. I felt vulnerable and a little embarrassed. 

Everything is ok I told myself If the waiter is annoyed that is his business and he has a right to feel as he feels, I can be present with his annoyance and still feel safe in myself. 

My second, tiny portion appeared, I ate it gratefully and left a generous tip.

Back at Furtado’s my guitar now looked magnificent! Furnished with a full set of gleaming gold tuning pegs. I felt pleased and satisfied that it was now partly Indian! I enthused my gratitude to the staff, who told me I must come back and visit them again. I would indeed, I had my eye on an electronic shruti box and a pair of reasonably priced ankle bells.

This morning, back in Gokarna, I breakfasted as usual at the MahaLaxmi cafe at the main beach. A large bowl arrived, containing boulders of fruit, some grated coconut and a sprinkling of raisins. Even more delicious than usual!  I felt an enhanced sense of appreciation that I can have this every day, just the way I like it.

Blessings

Jennifer

www.furtadosonline.com