Story
Story 60
"What are you doing here?"
They said and laughed.
"I just walk around."
I replied and laughed, too.
"Don't take our photo, we are boring to photograph!"
One of the women shouted and laughed again.
"Oh, no. You look fantastic!"
I held my camera and laughed again, too.
"Oh my, I have to hide myself!"
The woman laughed again, and tried to run away.
The other women also laughed.
"Please, do not go. I would like to take all of your picture!"
I pretended to be holding her, and laughed.
"Oh, you can hug me, but no picture!"
She shouted and opened her arms towards me.
We all laughed together.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Bali)
Story 59
All the village people were preparing for a big festival.
Boys were making big statues together after school.
"You know what? Who makes an upper part of the body is the best!"
One of the boys who were working on the chest of the statue said.
"No way! Who makes arms and legs is the best!"
Some of the other boys talked back.
"Come on! Who paints the statue is the best!"
Different boys also responded.
"Listen guys! My father paid for all the materials!"
One boy shouted.
"Okay, okay! You are the best!"
The rest of the boys said and they all went back to work.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Bali)
Story 58
I visited the biggest catholic church in Bali.
Even a cross at the church was made of flower petals.
Bali, the island made of love, peace, and flowers.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Bali)
Story 57
Once I worked at a fish port.
Every morning I carried a lot of fish.
Often I cut their heads off and cleaned them to sell at markets.
I do not remember how many fish I had cut.
Because fish were already dead when I cut them, I did not feel sorry for fish.
One morning, I was cutting fish as usual.
I cut one after another, and another, and another.
Then I found that the fish was still alive when I grabbed it to cut.
I wanted to help the fish, but a person who bought all the fish was there with me, so I had to trick him.
I dropped the alive fish on the floor secretly, and quickly squatted and hid the fish in my boot.
He seemed not to notice it.
I excused myself that I wanted to go to a toilet, then ran to the sea in front of our building.
I took out the fish and threw it into the sea.
"Stay away from fishing boats!" I shouted in my mind.
The man who bought the fish gave me a questioning look.
He might have found that I took one fish out, but I did not care.
The scenery of the see and fishing boats in Bali reminded me of that.
I still remember the feeling of the fish in my boot.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Bali)
Story 56
In Bali, women make an offering to a deity regularly every day.
They usually put an offering in front of their house gate, and at an altar.
One day I met a woman who was highly respected in her village.
My friend in the village suggested me to follow her offering.
She smiled at me, that was a sign that I was allowed to go with her.
We walked into a bush that was a bit far from the village.
She went to one tree, and squatted herself down there.
Then she put the offering, and prayed.
After coming back to the village, my friend told me that one of her relatives turned into spirit of the tree, so she makes an offering to the tree.
I would like to be a tree spirit after I died, too.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Bali)
Story 55
This is the King of Fruits in Southeast Asian countries.
The durian.
It’s impossible to ignore its smell even 30 meters away from a durian shop.
I understood how much people love this monster’s egg (excuse me) when I saw my friends getting excited by smelling them on the street.
My Balinese friend once told me that I should not give up eating the durian before seven times even if I did not like it in the beginning.
After seven times, I would be crazy about it, she said.
Well, let’s see.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Bali)
Story 54
When I was walking in a village, I saw some women preparing a lot of offerings in a park.
They told me that a shaman was going to hold a healing ceremony for the locals in the evening.
When the westering sun was sinking, a shaman appeared and began the ceremony.
One adult man and one boy came to receive the healing session.
The boy came there because doctors could not heal his illness.
During the ceremony, the shaman spent most of the time to pray to spirit.
He invited spirit and offered all the flowers, foods, and drinks.
When spirit arrived, the shaman asked spirit to purify water prepared in large buckets.
Then the shaman called the two participants in, and soused the holy water over them.
Folk beliefs are very active in Bali, that makes the island so colorful and beautiful.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Bali)
Story 53
In the village of Allahabad, there was a small statue that had only feet remaining at the bottom of a tree.
It seemed that somebody still offered something to the statue.
During the Maha Kumbh Mela I usually passed this place to go to the Ganges, and every time I was attracted by this strange statue.
Why the upper part was gone?
Why the village people still kept the bottom part, and why they continued offering to it?
On my last day in the village, I asked some children playing in the street about the statue, but nobody knew.
Then one skinny man who saw me asking about the statue came to me and asked me.
"Are you interested in this statue?"
"Yes, I am. Do you know anything about it?" I asked him.
"Come to my house. I will tell you about the statue," he smiled.
"Sure," saying so I followed him.
His house was 15 minutes away from the statue place on foot.
I felt that something was doubtful on our way.
"Does he really know about the statue? Is he really taking me to his home? Is he thinking something?"
I was questioning in my mind.
"Here we are, my place," he looked back at me and said so.
It was not big, but he had a very nice house which could only seen in a picture book.
In the yard, an elder man was making something like a big wheel with plants.
"He is my father," the man said.
"What is he making?" I asked.
"I guess it's a wind catcher," he said.
"A wind catcher? What is that?" I asked again.
He pointed at a filed next to his house and said.
"When you grow grain, you put a wind catcher in a field. We believe that it catches bad wind which destroys grain."
"So it is like a spiritual tool or something like that?" I asked.
"Yes, something like that," he replied.
There were many bundles of sticks and branches hung under the eaves.
"Do you use them for spiritual tools, too?" I looked up.
There were two children on the roof looking at me shyly.
I waved at them, but they smiled and ran away.
"No, those are fire woods. We dry them like that. Welcome," he invited me to inside the house.
"Do you like chai?" offering me a chair he asked.
"Oh, that will be nice. Thank you," I sat and looked around.
It seemed like a small living room.
A table, chairs, a book shelf, everything was neatly organized and well-maintained.
Now I felt ashamed that I had doubted him.
A couple of minutes later, he came back with a cup of hot chai.
Having a sip (wonderful flavor!) I asked him about the statue.
He grabbed one notebook from the shelf, and showed me the page opened.
There was a drawing of a beautiful girl with long black hair.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"She is the owner of the feet," he said.
"You mean the feet of the statue?" I looked at the girl's feet, but I could not remember if her feet and the feet were the same.
"Yes," he replied.
"Many years ago, I saw a dream of her. She said that she was the spirit of the tree," he continued.
"Around the tree, there were always children playing, and she was jealous, she wanted to play as well."
The house I was invited seemed like a building which could only be seen in a picture book, but now I felt that I myself also became a part of a picture book story.
"She could not move because she is the spirit of the tree. She needed feet to run around like other children."
"I asked her why she told me about it. She said that she knew that I was able to help her."
He stood up and put the notebook back in the book shelf.
"Then you made the feet statue?" I asked him.
The children's playing voice was heard.
"Yes. I cast a spell on the feet statue so that she was able to come out from the tree and play."
"Wait, did you say that you cast a spell? Who are you?" I was excited and nervous at the same time.
"My family is a shaman family. It is nothing to do with Hinduism," he said.
"Relax, I am not going to spell on you," he smiled.
"So the spirit of the tree is happy now," I also smiled.
"Yes, but once the girl got lost," he said.
"Oh really?"
"Yes, the tree suddenly began to die. I knew that she was not back."
"She was too excited to be free, and went too far from the tree. This is how I think," he said and the father came into the room.
"Nice to meet you," I stood up and greeted him.
The father did not speak English, he said something to his son in the local language.
"My father asked me if you got any cigarette," the man said.
"Sorry, I don't have it," I said to the father.
The father seemed a bit disappointed and went.
I felt a little bad that I made the father disappointed.
"My father likes smoking too much," the man said.
"Sorry, where are we?" he asked.
"The girl was lost," I said.
"Oh, yes. So I put some spelled sugar candies at the statue."
"Ah, it is you offering to the statue," I said.
"Yes. After I put the sugar candies the tree became healthy again. So I keep putting them for the girl not to be lost again."
My mind was totally blown by the story.
Maha Kumbh Mela had been truly magical, but I encountered even more magical moment just before I was leaving the venue of the great festival.
I deeply thanked to the man about his story, and stood up to leave.
But I was still feeling bad about disappointing the father.
I thought that I might have something I could give him in my bag.
My fingers touched something at the bottom of my bag.
It was hashish which I bought from a female vagabond two months ago in Goa.
I forgot that I kept it in my bag.
"Excuse me, I don't have a cigarette, but I have this. Would you like it?" I asked the father.
He quietly received the hashish and smelled it.
The man came and interpreted what his father said about the hashish.
"This is a cheap bad one. You should not smoke it."
Then the father gave the hashish back to me.
I was embarrassed and put it back in my bag.
The father said something to his son.
"You are protected by good spirits, have a safe journey," the man spoke for his father.
"Thank you," I said to the father.
The father smiled, and put his palm on my forehead.
I thought that would never forget this magical experience.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Allahabad)
Story 52
One full-moon evening, I was walking along the Ganges.
Then I heard someone singing by the river.
It was a shaved-head man in a brown cape squatting and collecting river water in some bottles.
AUM, HARI AUM, HARI HARI HARI...
His singing voice was tuned into the current of the Ganges, it sounded like he was spreading peaceful vibrations out across the world through the holy river.
Waited for him to finish collecting river water, I asked him what the bottles of water for.
He looked at me, then looked up at the full moon.
"It's a good full moon, isn't it?"
He said.
"Yes, beautiful."
I said.
"I came here from a village, it's very very far," he began to talk.
"My village is very very poor. People collected some money and gave it to me for my journey," he continued.
One boat crossed the river silently.
The illumination of Hindu communities on the other side of the river was reflected on the surface of the Ganges.
It was like golden waterfalls.
"I came to Maha Kumbh Mela on behalf of all the people of my village," looking at the boat he said.
"So I gathered the holy water of the Ganga, and I will give it to the villagers."
He had four to five big bottles.
"How are the village people going to do with the river water?" I asked.
The moon was already moving towards the western sky.
"They are going to drink it, then they will be purified physically and spiritually," his eyes were following the moon.
"That's beautiful. I wish you a safe journey back home, and blessings to the people waiting for your return," I thanked to his sharing the inspiring moment with me.
I left the riverbank.
Soon I heard him singing again.
AUM, HARI AUM, HARI HARI HARI...
The full moon shined as gold as the illumination.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Allahabad)
Story 51
Hindu communities that participated in Maha Kumbh Mela often had "sacred children" besides their Baba and Guru.
Those sacred children were usually biological siblings or relatives from the same family.
One of them was chosen as the divine embodiment (living god) of the community.
In all the communities I had visited, the younger ones were the divine embodiment, and the elders were like guardian spirits.
I don't know how how this tradition functions in Hindu religion, but I understood that those sacred children were special.
One day I went to a community that had a Yogi Baba.
They had the sacred children of two little sisters.
The young one was the living goddess, she was very small, so I didn't communicate with her well.
On the other hand, the elder one who was like around 10 years old, possessed psychic abilities.
She was able to see one's past appearance.
When I was talking to her, she began to describe my childhood appearance.
What terrified me was when she told me that I had discolored teeth before.
That was correct, my teeth were discolored in consequence of overdose of antibiotics when I was small.
I have no idea what kind of life they will lead as sacred children, but I do hope that they will enjoy their life anyhow, and I like to meet them again someday.
(photo & story by Tengyo Kura, Allahabad)