Page 22 of The Love Thief
CHAPTER FIFTEEN My Foodie Soulmate
One night after satsang, Sadhviji invited me to join some of her nonprofit board members for dinner.
These were some of her most devout donors to the Global Interfaith WASH Alliance, an international organization dedicated to clean water, sanitation, and hygiene, which she headed. She was very passionate about it.
I was seated next to a beautiful thirty-something woman named Maya, who literally radiated positive energy.
Dressed in a bright red, blingy kurta and shredded, faded, stylish skinny jeans, Maya was a fun blend of East meets West with a Fitbit on one wrist and about a dozen gorgeous gold bangles on the other.
Maya told me she was in Rishikesh for the quarterly board meeting and was staying at the Ananda Spa, which I had heard was a super fancy retreat for the rich and famous. Even Oprah had been a guest there.
This was my third post-satsang dinner, and while the food was tastily vegetarian, when the server plopped a dollop of dahl on my plate, a thought ran through my mind, I would kill for a Hodad’s cheeseburger .
Maya burst out laughing and said, “Me, too!”
Which is when I realized that I’d actually said this out loud.
As my face turned red, I asked Maya how in the world she knew about Hodad’s.
Maya said with a hungry look in her eyes, “This might surprise you, but I went to San Diego State University for my master’s degree in hospitality.
The cheeseburgers at Hodad’s are my all-time favorite burgers.
I’m also addicted to the onion rings at Burger Lounge, the fish tacos at Oscars, and the guacamole at the Taco Stand in La Jolla.”
We spent the next hour lusting over our favorite San Diego foods, including a shared passion for Cardiff Crack, the best marinated tri-tip steak in the world today.
We compared notes on everything from best pizza to cupcakes, tying on the best guilty pleasure dessert (either the Pizookie at BJ’s or the to-die-for Super Messy Sundae at Sammy’s), and best BBQ (from Phil’s BBQ, of course), and more.
“Y’know, Maya, I think we just might be foodie soulmates, but explain to me how a Hindu justifies eating burgers and steak?” I asked.
“Well, I am only a good Hindu while in India, but outside of my home country, I indulge in all my favorite forbidden foods. Even though I was raised a vegetarian, I now consider myself a ‘chegan,’ a cheating vegetarian.” She laughed.
After this deeply bonding conversation, Maya offered me a ride back to my hotel.
I discovered there are cars and roads in the back of the ashram for getting back to the other side of the river.
She invited me to come to Ananda the next day for lunch and a swim, and then insisted that I accept a gift of an ancient Ayurvedic treatment at the spa.
Of course, I said, “Yes!” I mean, who wouldn’t want a spa day in a holy city, no less? Rishikesh, one of the four most holy cities in India, seemed to have something for everyone. From ashrams to a luxurious spa. I was excited to explore it all.
When I got back to my room, I decided it was time to create a daily schedule for myself.
The Virgo part of me was craving routine, consistency, and a new sense of purpose.
In the ten days since I had arrived in India, so much had happened.
For someone who had resisted all talk of fate, destiny, synchronicity, and the like, it appeared (or was starting to feel like) I might have to rethink my thinking.
Could it just be a coincidence that on my first day, I had met a kindred spirit like Deepak offering me his wisdom and unconditional love, not to mention a daily dose of much-needed, caffeine-laden chai? And it was Deepak who showed me the way to aarti and Swamiji and Sadhviji.
And through them, I met Kurt and now Maya, all of whom generously offered me friendship, insight, solace, and—dare I say it?—a spiritual connection?
After more than six weeks of post-op recovery, mostly home alone at Mom’s, it felt good to be back out in the world and connecting with people, even though I was still on an emotional roller coaster with no end in sight.
Several times a day, I experienced overwhelming feelings of worthlessness, hurt, and despair, or worse, intense anger, and I hit 10+ misery levels.
Yet, there were also moments when I found myself humming that seventies disco tune, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, feeling nearly upbeat, with something akin to hope for brighter days.
As the saying goes, “If there’s horseshit in your backyard, there’s a pony out there somewhere. ”
I was grateful that I had accepted Auntie’s plan and agreed to come to Rishikesh.
And even though thinking about my recent past and my future still filled me with dread, I could feel a stirring of possibility inside.
Maybe Deepak’s morning chats about how we don’t really make mistakes, and the importance of having gratitude for right now, for what is , were beginning to have an impact on me.
And yet, having spent most of my life focused on the dream of marriage, motherhood, and the white-picket-fence fantasy, I now deeply grieved the loss of this dream. It seemed as if my entire identity, my reason for being, was gone, and I needed to accept this. But with what would I replace it ?
Never a “deep thinker” and also an admitted psychotic optimist, I now saw that I had to figure out who I was, what I wanted, and what new dream I could dream for myself.
I was a natural-born lemonade maker; in the past, I would take whatever difficulties came my way and find their silver lining. Until now.
Did I want a pony or a unicorn or something else entirely?
Somehow I was now hoping that it was possible to find these answers here in this beautiful holy city of Rishikesh . . . especially if I could figure out how to be patient and just sit with the “not knowing” of it all.