But henceforth I'm going to stop poking fun at the eating restrictions here, because while they may not seem at first glance to gel with "science" (at least what Westerners think of when they think "science"), I've decided that these guidelines are there for good reason. I now most certainly believe that mangos do not mix with a hot body, and they will in fact nearly kill you if you eat one after being out in the sun. Same goes for papayas, apparently. Because as I said before, these fruits are considered "heating" foods that will make your stomach explode if consumed during moments of vulnerability. Further, I cannot count the number of times that air conditioning in India has made me deathly ill. Any attempts to make sense of this within the American paradigm of understanding illnesses fails every time, so I am going to go with the local method for interpreting such things and conclude the A/C makes you sick. And just this past Sunday, my consumption of an ice cream precipitated my rapid decline from a cold into what appears to be full blown bronchitis, providing further evidence for the maxim that cold things make you sick. Especially when your body has been in a minimum 85F, maximum 105F ennvironment every day for 3 months, except for those brief moments when you've be able to enjoy some deadly air conditioning.
As is the case with most "folk" beliefs, as well as supernatural beliefs, people don't just believe these things without evidence. The scientific method can also apply to "folk" beliefs and supernatural beliefs, even though most Westerners don't like to think so. In many cases, an event can be understood according to both "scientific" explanations and "supernatural" or "folk" explanations. For example, when I ate that mango that made me deathly ill, my illness could both be understood according to the germ theory and according to the more local theory that mangos have "heating" properties. We cannot see the germs with the naked eye just as we cannot "see" the supernatural properties of the mango. My ailment could be explained either way. Another example: Just today I bought a great coffee mug for Rs. 70. As I was riding home I was thinking to myself, "What a deal! I love this mug! I cannot wait to get home and drink some tea from this mug! This is a great mug!" And what happened the moment I got home and washed the mug, admiring it the whole time? It fell and shattered into a million pieces. How to explain this? It looks an awful lot like I put the evil eye on that mug, and that's why it broke. And how could you possibly prove to me that this isn't the case? What I am trying to say is that people do not always believe in things on pure "faith" alone, but also because there is all kinds of evidence in daily life to support these theories, whether they be "scientific" or "folk." You envy and admire things; they get destroyed. Simple as that.
Nevertheless, I've avoided the doctor because the first thing they are going to ask me is did I have a cool drink or did I have ice cream. If I confess that I did have an ice cream, that will be the end of discussion. If I refuse to admit that I consumed an ice cream, they will look at me as if I am lying. Then they will try to give me an injection, which is often the local solution to every sort of ailment from colds to headaches to stomach pain to feelings of sadness. If you feel the slightest bit ill, friends and strangers will enthusiastically suggest that you go to the doctor and "uusi poodunga!" Which means, "get injected!" If you say you went to the doctor, people will invariably ask, very excitedly, "uusi pooddaangalaa?!" meaning "Did they inject you?!!" The one thing about the doctor here that gets people super excited is the notion that they might get an injection. They don't care what the injection is; the action of getting a shot in the arm is the important thing here. More than any actual medical value, this shot appears to give people a phychological boost and the feeling that something is being done. I figure doctors are probably injecting people with sugar water and making a killing.
It turns out that if injections are not available, or if the foolish foreigner has inexplicably refused to seek out an injection, people do rather enthusiastically embrace local home remedies which, no surprise, work pretty damn well. Today Tamilarasi came over and saw me looking in pretty sorry shape. She immediately procured the necessary materials and began construction on what can really only be described as a eucalyptus sweat lodge. She boiled water in a big pot and dropped a eucalyptus gel tab into it. She wanted to create a tent over my body using a heavy bedsheet or synthetic saree, but all we had was a cotton saree, which somewhat thwarted her plans to create intense heat through the use of polyester. I was a bit worried about the heat, considering that it was already about 90F in my house. She covered my body with the saree and instructed me put my head over the pot and huff in the vapors. It was so strong that I immediately began gasping for air. I didn't think I would survive but she told me to keep at it. Meanwhile she was outside the tent asking very excitedly, "ARE YOU SWEATING YET????" Apparently the key was to sweat bullets. I found it very difficult to breathe and feared falling unconscious. But I stuck it out and when I emerged from the eucalyptus sweat lodge I could breathe some better. I was then instructed to bathe with the water from the pot for added benefit.
Tonight when Chellapandi came over, she noticed that I had purchased some ZANADU balm, as instructed by Tamilarasi. She decided it was time to create another sweat lodge using this Zenu I mean Zanadu balm. I don't know what the hell they put in this Zenu balm, but it's about the strongest shit on earth and it would probably kill a gladiator in the right quantities. When she covered me with the saree, I was gasping for air and could not breathe, the fumes were so intense. My lungs burned like they were on fire. I started to cry. Chellapandi peeked into the tent and confused the tears with sweat, taking this as a sign that the treatment was working swimmingly. Then she realized I was crying and not sweating, so she closed the tent to let it continue to work. She told me to huff it in but it was so strong I couldn't manage. Eventually I started to sweat and snot started to pour from my nose. Success! I emerged from the Zenu sweat lodge victorious. Or at least my lungs were much more clear. My whole face was red, not surprisingly. Chellapandi had been hesistant to introduce this treatment as she thought I would be "afraid." And let me tell you, the Zenu sweat lodge is a powerful treatment and one should be afraid. But Chellapandi wants me to try it again in the morning. Hopefully I can handle it.
Despite the lack of pitchfork accessories,my sweatlodge managed to be way cooler than this guy's.
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