One Sunday at German Bakery…

Well, this incident happened a couple of Sundays ago, but I was too lazy and too ill to post. But it is something that I can’t ignore and have to write about, so here goes…


[Outside of German Bakery]

I don’t usually have my meals with the landlords on Sundays, so I took myself to German Bakery for their sumptuous breakfast. It is a very famous place in Koregaon Park, right at the beginning of North Main Road. It opens early in the morning and has a mouthwatering menu of breakfast delicacies for all involved. Every morning, a variety of individuals make their way to this place. Totally self-service, this place also has a very informal attitude. There are benches and so on, and anyone can sit anywhere they find a place to park themselves. So we have a variety of people on a table, and some of them may not know each other. Sometimes people end up talking to complete strangers, sometimes we ignore each other and go about our business.


[Inside of German Bakery]

So I walked in, ordered my Masala Chai and Masala Omlette, paid my bill and picked up my cup of tea, and went to sit on a bench. An old man sat across me, smoking a beedi and drinking his tea. I had taken the Sunday newspaper with me. And began to read it while I waited for my omlette to arrive. Soon enough, the old man went away. My table was empty for a brief moment.

A blonde woman dressed in the Osho maroons arrives with an Indian fellow. Thin and gangly, with long hair and a beard, he looked exactly like the kind of person who was in the process of conning this young woman.

You will find plenty of these types in and around the Ashram, mingling with the Oshoites, spouting ‘spiritualism’ and ‘oshoism’. All they want in the end, is to either make some money off these ‘firangs’ or sleep with the women.

Another fellow walks in with them. The young woman and the bearded man sit across from me, and the young man sits next to me. They carry on their conversation. My omlette arrives. I dig into it with relish while peering into my newspaper.

I can’t help but overhear their conversation. So here is what I remember:

Bearded Man: (to young woman) When did you come to Pune?

Young Woman:(in broken English) A couple of days ago.

Bearded Man: You have come to visit the Osho Ashram?

Young Woman: (in broken English) Yeah. I learn the natural medicine and I come here to learn more over here. I also join the meditation in the Ashram.

Other Young Man: From where have you come?

Young Woman: (in broken English) I come via London.

Bearded Man: So you are English? No wonder your English is very good. You should teach us English.

Young Woman: (laughs, and in broken English) No, no. I from Portugal. My English not so good. I teach you Portuguese, not English. Your English - very good.

Other Young Man: (also laughs) No, No, your English is very good. In fact you should teach us how to speak English because it is not our native language.

Bearded Man: (to Other Young Man, in Hindi) Arrey, her English really is bad. What all will you do to get her interested in you?

Other Young Man: (to Bearded Man, in Hindi) So what. And why are you flirting with her like that. Remember, I was the one who got her here in the first place. And I introduced the two of you to each other.

Bearded Man: (to Young Woman) You came here with another woman, right? Where is she?

Young Woman: I don’t know. She stay somewhere else.

Then this woman walks in. The women greet each other and the older woman soon joins them at the table. They begin to talk to each other in Portuguese (I think) and then these two notice that I am sitting there.

Bearded Man: Hello!

Me: Hello.

Other Young Man: (in Hindi) You heard everything didn’t you?

Me: (in Hindi) Yep.

Bearded Man: (in Hindi) Don’t tell her.

Me: Why should I? It is none of my business.

Other Young Man: (in Hindi) I like women like her. They are very intelligent and smart.

I roll my eyes and shake my head and continue to demolish the omlette.

Bearded Man: So what do you do? Do you work somewhere? You from Koregaon Park?

Me: I am a freelance writer. I write content for websites. I work for myself. And I stay in Koregaon Park. So what do you do?

Bearded Man: I am a real estate agent. I also recruit people for roles in serials etc.

I nod my head. In Koregaon Park, every third person is a real estate agent. This serials bit was new though, but useless information for me.

Bearded Man: So, do you have a card or something? I know many people who make websites. I will get clients for you.

I nod my head, pull out my card and give it to him, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Bearded Man: (after he looks at the card) Oh! You are a Tarot card reader? Wow! How much do you charge?

Me: (nodding my head) A thousand Rupees.

Other Young Man: Wow! I knew it. She has this amazing energy around her.

Again I roll my eyes and give the ‘Yeah Right’ expression.

Bearded Man: I will bring you plenty of clients for Tarot readings.

I nod my head and smile. I kinda know whats coming next.

Bearded Man: So how much you will pay me for bringing you clients?

Me: Nothing.

Bearded Man: Then I won’t bring you any clients.

Me: Then don’t bring me any.

Both Bearded Man and Other Young Man are baffled and so begin to ignore me and focus back on the Young Woman. I am relieved.

Soon they are asking her about what else she is doing here. The girl also knows a bit of Latin-American Dancing and so the Bearded Man asks her if she will dance in a marriage ceremony on a particular date. She refuses, because she has the meditation class that day.

The whole time, the Bearded Man and the Other Young Man are conversing with each other in Hindi and deciding amongst themselves about who gets to sleep with her. The Bearded Man is confident that she will sleep with him. He is even giving her the occasional hug and so on, and the Other Young Man is seething because he saw her first.

Soon, my omlette and tea were over, and I was folding my newspaper. The group gets up to leave. The argument is still continuing between the two men.

The Bearded Man turns around while leaving, looks at me and says (in Hindi): “I will be back in a few minutes. Please wait for me here, OK!”

I nod my head. As soon as they are gone, I get up and leave.

As I walked back home, I wondered if the woman would slap him if the Bearded Man came on to her, or whether she would sleep with him after all. But in the end, he would surely talk as if she did sleep with him. Because, that is how it goes around here.

Poor, Other Young Man!

And then I pondered on the meaning of most of what I had seen in Koregaon Park ever since I moved into this area over 3-4 years ago.

I had seen the foreigners come and go. They stayed in and around the Osho Ashram. They wore the maroon robes and ran around with their meditation mats. Some of them smoked pot and hashish. Drugs are cheaper and easier to procure in India, and the police are not so strict. Some of them were even pedophiles and would take a bunch of the beggar kids to their homes. Most of them talked about ‘spirituality this’ and ‘spirituality that’, and about their ‘chakras awakening’ with a whole bunch of animated enthusiasm over their joint of hashish, that I would wonder. They talked of ‘finding their Master’ while talking about either Osho or some other Baba they visited.

I have lived here so long, but have never entered the Ashram. I have never felt like doing so, especially after seeing these people.

Ages ago, I hung around with a bunch of these people when I used to hang out with my Tarot teacher who is an American lady. I used to find that these people were lost in Confusion and Identity Crisis was prevalent amongst them. Somehow, this had led them to India to ‘find themselves’.

This whole thing made me laugh. I wonder why people need to travel over several thousands of miles to ‘find themselves’. I mean, all they had to do was to look within themselves to find themselves. You can do it anywhere you are. Why India? I mean, tourism is good for the country and all that, but this BS sucks big time.

So now, I don’t hang around with these people. I just don’t have the patience to deal with this kind of silliness.

Besides which, I had reached home. I had other things to do. A life to lead…