Early morning is a good time to visit the Jagdish Temple in Udaipur, before the incessant roar of motorbikes and auto rickshaws drowns out the melodic chanting of the faithful worshippers inside. Down below, two ladies are sitting cross legged, on the staircase leading up to the temple, arranging their baskets of marigold and rose petal strands. Business will be brisk later as visitors buy offerings to be blessed by the priests.

At the top of a steep, narrow staircase stands a rack where shoes are placed before entering the shrine enclosure, a custom practiced in every temple in India. Stepping onto the icy cold stone floor I make a mental note ( for the umpteenth time)to wear warm socks next time.

I decide to walk around the thousand year old shrine, carved with stone elephants,riders on horseback and sensual dancing figures. In the back of the temple there is an open courtyard, a private space for temple attendants and wandering saddhus, and I hesitantly enter,not wanting to encroach upon the sacred grounds. A tall, thin man dressed in a green military style uniform. beckons me to come closer. Seated next to him are two Saddhus- one with saffron robes and dreadlocks, the other in simple white rags, and they are both puffing away on their ganja pipes. The “official” surprises me by pointing to the Saddhus and announcing in clear, precise English.

Shankar Maharaj and Loden Maharaj- they are my gurus.

I smile serenely.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Am I hearing him right ? He is waving his arms around in an exasperated manner and I realize he is warning me about the piles of cow dung littering the courtyard. Cows are sacred in India and they non chalantly wander through the streets, highways, doorways, and temples, with the knowledge that they will not be disturbed.

I ask if I can take photos of the Saddhus, and they happily agree and start posing. My reward for not paying attention for two seconds, is to slide into a schmear of hardly visible cow manure IN MY BARE FEET! All of us start laughing. Holy shit!

When I finish taking pictures and want to show them to the “official”, he brushes me aside.

No,no. I don’t want to see the photos. Send them to me. Here is my address at the temple.

He hands me a torn piece of paper scribbled in Hindi script.

Everyone knows the Jagdish Temple in Udaipur. It will come here. 4″ x 6″ only. Now let’s have some chai.

Just then Gerald appears and rescues me from having to make excuses for not wanting to risk drinking from those “holy” cups.

I knew I would find you here.