The Doctor's Cafe

Yesterday was a full moon day, and I thought of everyone back home, especially my work friends, hoping that it wasn't too over the top. The way it seemed to play out here in Pushkar, Rich & I wandered around for half an hour looking for a place to eat. It was cold and windy, and we needed to sit some place warm and sunny.

The search began at the bottom of the main road, and we ended up and the Lonely Planet recommended Sun n' Moon Cafe. Even though it was lunch time, the place was deserted, and fearing an experience like the one that occurs to Chihiro's parents in the Japanese anime Spirited Away, I thought it best we skip it. Rich thought so too, and suggested the place next door, The Doctor's Cafe.

The courtyard was busy with some men doing construction work but again, no diners, no chai sippers, nada. We stood at the entrance, about to leave, when the men said "Rooftop, rooftop restaurant."

At the top of the stairs, I could confirm that yes, this building had a roof. Okay, let's call it a "rooftop" even, if one wants to get all fancy about it, but calling it a rooftop restaurant is a stretch of the imagination, I found it harder than that Hanumanasana stretch (frontside splits).

There was a plastic white coffee table and four plastic chairs. The table had a tablecloth on it, as well as an ashtray. This does not a restaurant make.

I'd like to point out that I don't think of myself as high maitenance. Neurotic, jah. High maintenance, nyet. In fact, I've sat in a few grubby holes here and had my best lunch and best chai on a rooftop with absolutely no furniture.

I think I just didn't like the feeling I got when I walked into this place, and it was the menu that sealed the deal for me. (I'll keep this PG-13.)

Page one describes The Doctor's Mantra: talking, laughing, joking, f-ing, Enjoy!

I beg your pardon? I don't know where this guy went to med school but it's called a prescription, and I already have my mantra, Guru given, thank you very much.

No doubt it was the mood I was in as well, but I was thoroughly agitated, what with the signs posted everywhere about this is a holy site and please be respectful.

The day before, Rich gave me a copy of Autobiography of a Yogi as a parting gift (he leaves for Thailand in 2 days) and I forgot myself and hugged him "thank you" in the street. Then I remembered where I was and was absolutely horrified with having forgotten the rules and regulations. I was worried, with a real knot in my stomach, that people would think I was disrespecting their customs. No one said anything, and I think barely anyone noticed. Still, it's not like I blend in, I try to minimize the attention.

In any case, it may sound like I'm being uptight but there was something I couldn't describe about the place, and the way it was just us up there, on this rooftop, in a ghost restaurant, waiter standing by, waiting to take our order as soon as he handed us the menu.

It made me happy when we didn't stay for lunch. Rich felt we should leave too. I was so relieved. We left with Rich saying to the waiter "maybe we'll come back for dinner."

"We make fresh gnocchi," the waiter says.

I almost swore, "Mannagia Marco Polo!"

India, land of mantras and fresh pasta.