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There was a spring cleaning that went on in the ashram today, resulting in a switch of room, and a switch of beds.  And although in the mundane world such changes are often perceived as sources of distress, in a monastic setting it engenders a form of excitement.  The boys are also making way for a visitor monk, Ekalavya, a single man who hails from New York.  He’ll be with us for a week only, but it is always stimulating for me when he comes.
 
In the ashram, the breakfast is cooked by various people and done on a rotation.  This morning it was the duty of the only woman living on our premises.  Krishna is her name, and she prepared a monk’s favourite, kichari, a mixture of dahls, rice, vegetables, and spices (mild).  In some places in India, kichari is regarded as a poor man’s food, but in all reality, from a nutritional point of view, plus the taste factor, you are not going to find anything better. Krishna told me that the key spices are turmeric, cumin, and  cilantro with fresh ginger added.  It is yummy, absolutely.  https://www.instagram.com/p/ByUr-jagNd9/?igshid=16za79akrjb10
 
I am not always a partaker of breakfast.  My digestive powers are somewhat lacking in the morning.  My fires-within are stoked by noon-time when I sample what is being provided and served in Govinda’s restaurant.  But let confessions be what they are, for occasionally, I sneak down to the eating room, and scoop out a generous chunk of kichari to spread out on a portion of a thali, a plate.  When done well, I feel it is worthy of serving out at the summerfest, known as the Festival of Chariots.
 
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