Ugadi

If it weren't for my blessed 35-day menstrual cycle, I would have been sent away from home on this Telugu New Year that marks the first day of Navrati, which is for many Hindus, a nine day worship of the goddess Randamal. It is a very special day. Thankfully, Sweety stopped her menstruating just days before. Last year she had to miss out on her sacred holiday, cursed by her timing of the fascinating process that bonds women and makes human life on this earth possible.

At four a.m. my musical cell phone alarm filled the room to awake Sweety for the task that she's been looking forward to for weeks. Like a little kid on Christmas morning, she sprung from her restless sleep, not to open gifts or eat candy, but to clean durgamaa's temple and change his outfits. In addition to eating roasted corn on the cob and visiting the homeopathy clinic every fifteen days, changing god's outfits is one os Sweety's most favorite activities, a celebration in itself.

I woke at 9:15 in my leisurely manner, selfishly trying to persuade the forces of the universe to do me a solid and turn back time to grant me a couple more hours of sleep. Unsuccessful in my attempts, I lazily made my way downstairs, my pajama's hanging sloppily from my shoulders, my wild morning hair shamelessly poking every which way, and eye buggers sticking crusty to my face. There were branches of a plant scattered on the dining table.

"Jai shri krishna. Good morning. Happy Ugadi," Goldy greeted.

"Jai shri krishna. Good morning. Happy Ugadi. What's with the branches?" I replied beginning to yawn.

"It's a neem plant", Goldy answered. "We eat five leaves from the plant on Ugadi."

I froze mid yawn. Then, coming to, I resumed proper mouth positioning and took a step back. I could hardy believe it. I was star struck. I stood completely disheveled staring at the holy plant who seemed to have developed a halo around its beautiful, slender leaves. I tamed my hair, wiped my eyes clean, straightened my posture, and after taking a deep, soulful breath, replied in a quiet whisper, "really?"

Neem is sort of my medicinal plant idol. It was one of the plants that initially sprung my interest in natural medicine, and I am continually amazed with its ability to assist in healing various ailments. It is still fairly under the radar in the west, and many natural doctors have yet to hear about the mystical plant. Oh, how beautiful it was seeing such a sacred herb so easily accessible, just pulled from a plant out front, and now lying with all her powers and wisdom on our cluttered kitchen table, the cups and spoons and our yellow-striped placemats unaware of what majesty lay before them.

I gently picked five leaves off the plant and making a bowl out of my hands, I soaked neem with her tiny white flowers in cooled boiled water. After the liquid slowly leaked through my fingers, I fanned the leaves dry over our white wash basin. I arranged them neatly on a small poreclein dish, and sprinkled the arrangement with a pinch of salt to cover the sharp, bitter flavor. I sat down on the couch, and setting the dish on my lap, I humbly partook in nature's offering.