Strange encounters

The streets of Kathmandu most definitely belong to the people. Coming home from the clinic in Putali sadak tonight was crazy; there were swarms of people around the cars and bikes, and vehicles could hardly move...the honking was an endless wail of converging horns coming from a ton of trucks and taxis fighting their way through the pedestrian mess. Today the first follow-up since I've started clinical came in, and it was a particularly interesting case (some demyelinating disease, but not MS). Interestingly, the treatment Dr. K prescribed has had an effect in only 8 days--this after a chronic problem for years and being on tons of immunosuppressant and other medications...Dr. K said that when something so mild has an effect like this it indicates an error in the original diagnosis.

It's good that the clinic was busy and distracting today, because I saw an upsetting thing on the way there this afternoon. Stuck in traffic, I happened to look out the window and observe that the entire street was surreptitiously watching a man strong-arm his wife across the street. She tried to get free of his grip, but he was having none of it; we started moving just as they rounded the corner of a building. I may have slight tendency to paranoia, but this man's face and body language--and the woman's--along with the reactions of everyone around them--signaled that a beating or some kind of typical abuse was about to take place. It bothered me very much. The rank injustice of domestic abuse sickens me.

We also had a strange incident this morning. Tais and I were sitting at the table outside our bedrooms when a shabbily-dressed older middle-aged man appeared on the stairs. He started mumbling something, repeating "maathi, maathi" and asking for "tato pani" (hot water)...when we told him there was none and to go downstairs he didn't respond at all, just kept repeating the same thing. "Maathi kehipani chainna" ("there's nothing upstairs") didn't mean anything to him, so finally I just told him to come with me ("ma sanga aunnus") and directed him to Ama-la. Turns out he was a beggar who decided it was fully within reason for him to open the gate and hike the steps into the house and ask for food. Ama-la had already given him something to eat (after which he asked for bread instead, and then demanded tea as well), and then he had headed up to where Tais and I were. Guess his stomach was still rumbling...or his mind was just skewed. Either way it was unsettling that he just came right on up there and it made me thankful for the locks on our doors. Of course, I also realized how different and unfeeling my reaction was; I was uneasy, while Ama-la was generous and kind. It made me a little ashamed.

Tais and I spent some of the morning at the stupa, which was wonderful. I'm going to make it a point to go there every day until I leave and do kora for at least half an hour. There's something ritually comforting (or comfortably ritualistic) about rolling the mala beads through my fingers, reciting a mantra in my head, just going step by step around the imposing white structure.

I wouldn't mind musing a bit more, but many essays are waiting to be written, so there's no time!