Page 48 of The Love Thief
CHAPTER THIRTY - FIVE May We Be Blessed
We were just days away from our red-carpet opening for Moondoggie’s, and both Maya and I were surprisingly and serenely chill.
Whichever Hindu Gods or Goddesses Maya was praying to every morning were continuously blessing our project.
Despite the short timeline, all deadlines were being met and all the pieces were falling into place.
The only thing that took longer than expected was designing our signature margarita, Wipeout.
We realized we were both amateur drinkers and unable to properly conduct taste tests of our concoctions while keeping track of the ingredients.
We proudly admitted defeat and outsourced the job to a professional mixologist in America, my college friend Ashley who ran a bar on the bay in Long Beach, California.
Ashley decided that we actually needed two signature drinks, neither of which was a margarita.
We now had recipes for a very exotic purple gin and tonic and a knock-your-sari-off Long Island iced tea to give our bartender, Ruhan.
He was an Oxford dropout who had fled his studious life and become a Bollywood wanna-be in Mumbai for a year before joining the hotel staff. He arranged a taste test for us.
The drinks were delicious and had a beautiful purple tinge to them from the special gin used in both.
Since both cocktails were best served in individual glasses, we gave up on the idea of the dramatic presentation with the “Wipeout” music we had originally planned.
At one point, we considered the possibility of offering these super potent drinks with a free Uber ride home but, in the end, decided against it.
Between Maya’s frequent social media postings, Varun’s team of expert marketers armed with teaser posters and billboards, and several mentions in the Delhi equivalent of Page Six, we were deluged with invitation requests from the young and the restless who lived in a constant state of FOMO.
One gossip columnist quipped that Moondoggie’s was the hottest invitation since the hundred-million-dollar wedding of Isha Ambani and Anand Piramal!
We had confirmation that four of Maya’s favorite Bollywood stars—Vivek Oberoi, Deepika Padukone, Dia Mirza, and Shilpa Shetty—had RSVP’d positively along with several other well-known faces.
The fashionista bloggers were busy debating what our dress code of “Malibu Chic” meant.
And our PR team was still working on confirming a lifestyle reporter from The Times of India along with several local TV news teams. If we didn’t have to compete with a lot of breaking news on opening night, we just might luck out and have a gaggle of news crews covering us.
Unlike most red-carpet openings where a “step and repeat” backdrop was used for all the interviews and still photos, Maya decided to create a very cool beach tableau by the entrance.
She arranged for a half-ton of white beach sand to be trucked in, built an authentic-looking lifeguard stand with a bold Moondoggie’s sign on it, and hired a young David Hasselhoff look-alike to wear a red Speedo and pose with the VIP arrivals.
Always the planner, I made sure we had a pair of board shorts for him to put on in case Maya’s parents threw a fit when they saw this nearly nude man on their property.
Bollywood rivaled Hollywood for its worship of all things celebrity, and this grand opening was almost certain to garner a ton of coverage.
To ensure that our project was indeed blessed, Maya had arranged for Sadhviji to leave her ashram in Rishikesh and come to Delhi to perform a special blessing that would occur at 8 A.M. , the day before the opening.
As a surprise to me, Maya, true friend that she was, asked Sadhviji to bring Deepak with her.
Maya and I, along with her parents and a valet, were waiting on the red carpet with garlands of red and white roses, jasmines, and marigolds to welcome our guests, when Sadhviji and Deepak arrived at the hotel in their Mercedes limousine.
Maya placed a tilak made of vermillion powder on Sadhviji’s forehead.
Dressed in a sleeveless blue-and-gray tweed-like Modi jacket with its fashionable stand-up collar worn over a steel-gray kurta, Deepak approached me with a million-watt smile.
I felt a rush of love for my dear friend and teacher, and ran into his arms, causing him to drop his small overnight bag.
Wiping away the tears streaming down my face, I hugged him tightly.
I was mindful not to smother him with my enthusiastic embrace.
“I am so glad to see you, my dear friend,” Deepak said. “You look so happy and beautiful! Big city life must be agreeing with you.”
“You look rather handsome yourself in your Modi jacket!” I quipped. “And for the first time ever, you’ve seen me crying happy tears instead of those my former pitiful, heartbroken self cried.” I took a step back to survey my friend once again.
“I have a million details to attend to,” I said. “But we’ll be seated next to each other at dinner tonight. I can’t wait to tell you everything!”
That evening, Maya’s parents arranged a small, intimate vegan dinner in the garden for all of us.
Longtime supporters of Sadhviji’s many philanthropic efforts, especially the Divine Shakti Foundation to help women and children, Maya’s parents were excited and honored to have Sadhviji at their hotel.
Our dinner table was perfectly placed under a giant banyan tree peppered with tiny twinkle lights.
The two antique candelabra on the round table provided the only real light.
Maya’s mother was dressed in a stunning black-and-red sari dotted with crystals, while her father wore a black silk Nehru jacket.
While soft sitar music played in the background, it was easy to imagine that it was a hundred years earlier, and we were having dinner with a Maharaja and Maharani.
“I miss our morning chai chats, Deepak.”
“Me, too. I think about you every day now, wondering how you are. How are you really , Holly?”
Sitting side by side at the beautifully appointed round table, we talked as if we hadn’t been apart for three months.
The flowing ease of our conversation was natural, comfortable, and familial.
He was happy to learn that I had finally committed to a yoga practice, and I sang praises of Ritaji and how she was teaching me more than how to attain a flexible body.
Her words of wisdom expanded all the lessons I had learned from him.
In the midst of our conversation, I remembered I needed to invite Ritaji to the blessing ceremony.
My ever-romantic side was musing that perhaps Deepak and Ritaji would be a match.
They had both lost their soulmates. Perhaps they could grow old together.
The next morning, we gathered in the café along with our entire staff of forty-four—the cooks, servers, senior hotel management, and everyone who was directly involved with Moondoggie’s.
When I walked into the room, Maya was busy placing brightly colored pillows on the wooden dance floor in a half-moon pattern around a small indoor firepit.
As the staff walked in, they quietly sat down and only spoke in whispers while we waited for the Homa fire ritual to begin. Off to one side of the room, a young woman seated on a colorful rug was playing a harmonium, setting the tone for the soon-to-begin sacred ritual.
Punditji, a small, thin man dressed in baggie white dhoti pants and a long collarless kurta, was arranging a series of items on a low table serving as an altar.
I recognized the two silver deities in the center.
The elephant God, Ganesha, known to be the remover of obstacles, was next to Lakshmi, the Goddess of good fortune and prosperity.
Both were adorned with garlands of bright flowers.
A whole coconut sat in a simple brass bowl half filled with water and surrounded by mango leaves.
Dots of red kumkum, a ceremonial powder made from saffron and turmeric, were strategically placed on the deities and the coconut.
Small squares of sweets and more flowers were also on the altar.
As I was about to sit down in the back row, Maya came and took me by the hand and said, “Holly, you will be sitting next to Punditji as you will have the honor of assisting him with today’s puja. Don’t worry. He speaks English and will show you the few things you need to do. It’s very easy.”
In plain view of everyone as the only American in the room, I felt a little conspicuous in my seat near the altar.
I knew nearly everyone in the room, and I could see that Deepak and Ritaji were sitting next to each other.
Both had their eyes closed. The vibe in the room was both calm and crackling with anticipation.
My heart was racing even though I didn’t know why.
This was different from anything I’d ever participated in, and I didn’t know what to expect.
Soon most of the staff had taken their seats on the pillows.
Maya escorted her parents to the right of the priest and then sat down next to them.
Sadhviji then walked in and sat down in a chair near me that was a position of honor.
Punditji came and bowed to her, reverently touching her feet.
After they exchanged a few words in Hindi, he turned his attention to the altar and began lighting a brass wick lamp.
He picked up an ornate brass bell and rang it several times as he began chanting mantras.
His voice filled the room, and the chants had a divine quality to them.
I felt as if I could feel the vibration of the words awakening ancient primal memories.
The chanting was both foreign and now familiar to me as well as comforting, and while this only lasted perhaps five minutes, it felt timeless.
Next, he lit the fire and chanted different mantras as he tossed something granular into the fire that I later found out is called samagri , a mix of cow dung and herbs to purify the air and create positive energy.
Punditji motioned to me to take some of the mixture to feed to the fire before having Sadhviji, Maya, and her parents do the same.
A few minutes later, Punditji stopped chanting and said something to the harmonium player.
She instantly began to play her mini organ-like instrument as everyone stood up and sang bhajans , the devotional songs they all seemed to know.
Chants for Ganesha and Lakshmi were sung while a lamp was passed as we each took turns moving the lit instrument in a circular motion.
I recognized this part of the ceremony as similar to the aartis I had attended at the ashram. While I didn’t know the words, I hummed along and let the sacred sounds fill my soul as they blessed our new creation, Moondoggie’s.
When the chanting was complete, Punditji broke the coconut on the floor and put the many pieces, along with the sweets and fruit from the altar, onto a platter. This was passed around to offer everyone who wanted a piece of the prasad , the blessed food, to eat and ingest the blessings.
As the flames of the fire subsided, Sadhviji began to speak.
“It’s so beautiful to be with you all on this special day as you open this new restaurant,” she said, looking around the room with her sweet smile and sparkling eyes.
“Typically, people come into a restaurant to nourish their bodies, and we ask that this place, through your devotion and your dedication, be a place that nourishes not only people’s bodies but also their hearts and their minds and their souls.
“May you fill people not only with food, but also with an experience of abundance and joy. May not only their cup runneth over, but may people feel so full, touched, and fed on every level that they are inspired to then go out to help and serve others.” Sadhviji then turned to look at Maya and her parents and continued.
“May this business be a great success on every level, and may that success ripple out not only into your pocket but may it also ripple out into the families of all those who work for you and to the families of all those who are part of the whole supply chain. May your success ripple out to every aspect of the economy. May it be a success for everyone involved, and may that prosperity ripple out and impact everyone,” Sadhviji concluded, pressing her hands in a namaste over her heart.
A line quickly formed, and Sadhviji began blessing and anointing the third eye of each person with the red kumkum.
When she pressed the red powder onto my forehead, she looked into my eyes and said, “Deepak shared with me your healing experience with Ma Ganga. Please know that what happened was just as real as standing here in this room is. You received the Mother’s grace.
You are always, always welcome at the ashram, and I am always here for you.
Please think of us as your Indian home,” she said in a voice filled with love and tenderness.
The atmosphere quickly shifted into a more festive mode.
Servers began passing out champagne glasses containing a nonalcoholic mango spritzer, and Maya’s father gave a beautiful short and sweet toast to Maya and me.
Maya’s mother, a force of nature in her own right, chimed in and offered her blessing and ended by profusely thanking Sadhviji for her gracious presence and good wishes.
Knowing I soon had to go back to San Diego, I felt a mixture of joy and sadness for having to leave Maya and the restaurant we had created together.
I would miss so many of the people I had met in India.
As I drifted off to sleep that night, I could hear Kurt’s voice whispering to me in my dreams: “You will be safe. Let Ma Ganga take care of the rest.”
WIPEOUT GIN AND TONIC
4 tablespoons Empress 1908 Gin
4 tablespoons Cruzan Mango Rum
tonic water (or diet tonic water)
lime juice
garam masala
sugar
Mix gin, rum, and tonic water
Dip the rim of each glass in lime juice (on a plate) and then dip in equal parts garam masala and sugar.
WIPEOUT LONG ISLAND ICED TEA
2 tablespoons white tequila
2 tablespoons Cruzan Mango Rum
2 tablespoons vodka
2 tablespoons triple sec
2 tablespoons lime juice
4 tablespoons ginger syrup
(substitute simple syrup or agave nectar, if necessary)
sugar
garam masala
2 tablespoons Empress 1908 Gin
sparkling water
Dip the rim of each glass in lime juice to coat, then dip in equal parts garam masala and sugar.
Mix the white tequila, Cruzan Mango Rum, vodka, triple sec, lime juice, and ginger syrup in a shaker.
Pour over four glasses filed with ice and add ⒉／⒊ cup of sparkling water to each cocktail.
Float a tablespoon of Empress 1908 Gin on each.