Slugs and Zeldas

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Maybe it was the slug on the bathroom floor.

Or perhaps it was the dog with no name.

Whichever, I’m quite sure now I’m in India.

“That’s terrible!” I cried to the dog’s master, Mr. V, who was taking me around his small village of Painkulam in Kerala. She was so faithful, protecting him from danger (he said HE was protecting HER, but I know better.) She wanted pets and came to me to say hello, but he chastised her, saying, “no touch.” I longed to pet her brown head with sleepy eyes, but Mr. V was now protecting me from dog with no name.

He introduced me to half a dozen people in the village—all very friendly and curious about my presence here. I met one 86-year-old grandma as she sat on her porch, reciting the Mahabarata. I saw the script in the heavy book in her lap—looked like Sanskrit, and she droned on and on as I tried to chat with her younger sister nearby. Her sister didn’t seem fazed. My older sister does it daily, she said, for at least an hour.

I wanted someplace green and quiet, so I chose this village, Painkulam, about 6 km from the town of Shoranur, where I got off the train from Trichur. I landed in India about five days ago. I keep coming back. Sometimes I think I’ve spent many lifetimes here. The people seem familiar, and I slip into conversation easily with them. They smile and laugh at my attempts at speaking Malayalam, a new language for me, but it is closely related to Tamil, which I can muddle through in critical times.

Anyway, back to the slug and dog with no name. So I’m in this village, with coconut palms all around, doves cooing, mango tree outside my door. A cute little house I have rented, and it is far too big for me. Three bedrooms, smooth cement floor painted red, a tiny fridge.

Jayashree from several houses away is cooking meals for me. Last night she brought me a curd salad with tomatoes, onions, and chilis. And boy were those chilis. I like spicy food, but that was spicy! So in my broken Tamil (many words are similar in Malayalam) and with a lot of drama (you know, panting and fanning my mouth) I think I got across that she should cut back on the chilis.

Oh yes, the slug. And no-name dog. So incensed was I that she had no name, I insisted on giving her a name. Zelda. I named a street dog in Madurai Zelda. I’ve been thinking about her, so I guess to be closer to her and because I’m hoping she’s still alive and I’ll find her this trip, I named no-name dog “Zelda.” Mr. V likes the name, and started calling her that. He told me he usually calls her “hey you” or “dog.”

The slug surprised me. I got up in the wee hours to use the bathroom, and there was this brown thing on the floor. Slowly slowly sliding along, about the length of my pinky finger. “You have to go,” I told the slug. So I picked up the red plastic cup used for dipping water for my morning bath, and I encouraged slug to climb aboard. He/she refused. So I thought, what’s the harm in just leaving it to slide around the bathroom floor. As long as I don’t splat it in the middle of the night, he/she should be allowed to wander. So I’ve tracked its movements. It leaves a trail of slime wherever it slides. I sprayed a dot of water from the toilet hose (the one you use for cleaning yourself, kind of like a hand-held bidet) on the floor around it, thinking I would ease her passage. Not sure if that was a good idea.

Speaking of slime, I treated myself to a slime-fest at the Ayurvedic clinic in Trichur. The doctor prescribed special oils to relax the tense muscles in my back and neck. The traditional sliming table, a big hunk of sculpted hardwood, dark with repeated oilings, was really, really hard. No extra fat on elbows, knees, and toes leads to sharp encounters with that surface. But there were two women slathering the medicine all over my body—all over—and they worked as a four-handed goddess, each mirroring the other in technique.

Did it help? After the first treatment I slept for three hours. After the second and third treatment I felt refreshed and a bit tired, but muscles were more relaxed. I will continue treatments when I get close to another clinic. They are well worth the minimal cost and temporary discomfort of elbows and knees grinding into the wood table. And it was fun being a slug on the table—when they wanted me to move up, they just pushed and I slid, leaving a trail of medicinal oil.

So besides the slug and Zelda, I encountered a small snake. It crashed through some dry leaves and fell from a concrete wall as I was sitting on my veranda. I noted its slim, garter-snakelike physique and piercing red eyes. It wanted nothing to do with me and quickly skidaddled up the wall and into leaf cover.

The occasional auto rickshaw putt-putters past. Bare-chested men, sacred thread flying (sacred thread tells me they are Brahmins), ride tandem on motor bikes. Mr. V and his daughter briefly pause on a motorbike in front of my house to tell me they’re on their way to a nearby town. “Be safe,” I yell. I’m already feeling protective, becoming a part of this small community.

“Americans are rich and can save money,” Mr. V stated on our 6:00 am walk this morning. “Marriage is important for bonding, it is not good not to be married,” he said. We discussed whether being rich brings happiness. He thinks not. I think not also.

I’m home, back in India. I think I’ll be able to tolerate the 5:00 am music concert from the temples. My ear plugs are no match for that squealing.

Oh my, Zelda just trotted into my yard, in search of the “compost” (leftover food) I threw on the compost pile. Oh my, there’s another Zelda. And a short-legged version of Zelda. Maybe I’ll name my slug Zelda.

Oh, the short-legged Zelda is a Zeldo.

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Photos

priest opens door to inner sanctum of village Shiva temple
The rocks are very important in this temple.

Comments

[RENanDREW]

Zeldas a plenty...
I thought you'd met old Zelda from Madurai again! But alas, it's a new Zelda :) Life is manic over here at the moment, and I love love love the sound of your quiet little haven in Kerala! Very much looking forward to reading more

[Traveling Terry]

Zelda everywhere
Oh how I miss the original Zelda! I guess I will end up populating India’s dog world with Zeldas. Alas, I am in Painkulam for just a week, but it’s already a place where I will probably return. Thanks for coming along on yet another visit to India. So much to experience, so much to tell!