Neem Bath

I have a rash. It sucks.

I also have no natural talent for learning other languages. Which also sucks.

Today I spent mostly on the land, working on my projects and helping the forest when I could. I itched at every step, and every scratch brought my spirits a little lower.

I tried to distract myself by curling up in the hammock or on the ledge to read. But the itch took over. It creeped into my brain and I could think of nothing else, do nothing else. Scratch… scratch… scratch…

I tried taking a ride on the scooter, but the effect was the same. Each straightaway that granted me the ability to drive one-handed meant I could sooth the incessant nag of my skin.

It was no use. I needed to be on the land, working, itching. It’s what the Day demanded from me.


Meanwhile, Vasantha—the amma who cooks and cleans at Lumière—was cheerfully trying to engage me in conversation. I wanted to ask about her children, her life, her world… but my “Learn Tamil in 30 Days!” book has proved less effective than I had hoped. She seemed so warm and engaging and all I could do was laugh.


Then she grabbed my arm firmly in her chubby fingers and twisted it around. She scrunched her dark face, bit her full lips, and stared with hard eyes. She had spotted The Rash.

I demonstrated itchyness with my pale hands and formed a pout that Eloise would’ve been proud of. Her hard analysis melted to ideas.

While hollering the harsh language of Tamil, she suddenly scurried around the kitchen and soon outside, where she proceeded to rip branch after branch from the Neem tree. She used her hands to explain what she was doing, but I’ve always sucked at charades.

And then the pot of boiled Neem leaves and who-knows-what-else and it was time for me to have a bath.

She walked me into the bathroom. I stood awkwardly beside the steaming bucket, clinging to my fuzzy blue towel and bar of Western soap. She stood fully clothed in the doorway and demonstrated in animated gestures how to take a Neem bath. And without another word, she disappeared.

So I bathed. And it felt damn good.

Emerging from the open shower into the forest, I caught her smiling face waiting for me, tea in hand. I smiled. I smelled like Green but would taste of chai, and finally—FINALLY!—I didn’t itch.


This, my friends, is life in the forest. And all I can do is laugh… because—itch or no itch—it’s fun. :)