renuka devi through the lens of a touring drummer: beats, humidity, and questionable yogurt

woke up to the sound of a cow mooing directly outside my window. name’s ramesh. he’s got a tambourine. it’s 6am. the air smells like a fryer that never got shut off. checked the weather app. 24.54°C out here, feels like someone left the oven on low. humidity’s a beast-73% clinging like a bad habit. sweaty enough to fog up a guitar pickup.

last night, tried that street food the locals rave about. someone on the guesthouse bulletin board warned me about the yogurt. ‘trust me, it’s alive and it hates tourists,’ they wrote in all caps. took the risk. now my gut’s throwing a bucket. hey, worth it if it makes a cool story later.

spent half the day wandering the river trail. saw this mural of a guy playing tabla while riding a motorcycle. totally made up. artist was a ghost. or maybe a government project. either way, it’s got me dancing in my minimal headspace. locals here don’t need headphones-they just drum along to distant cowbells.

found a spot rated 4 stars on tripadvisor for ‘vibes that transcend dimensions.’ honestly? it’s just a cracked sidewalk by a temple. but hey, the monks nodded when i played my setlist through the speakers. maybe that counts.

neighbors? kuchhikhana’s a 20-minute drive north. birgunj’s got a mcdonalds that sells achar fries. don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. someone at the guesthouse said to ask for ‘siddhartha’ at the bus station. no idea who that is or why they’re a big deal, but the rickshaw driver gave me a sticker saying ‘danger’-don’t know why.

pro-tips: if you hear a rooster at night, it’s either time to sleep or lost in the forest. butcher shops here hang meat sideways. the cats are feral and opinionated. also, never trust a taxi driver who offers ‘rooftop views.’ they’re lying. always.

(iframe map here)
^ this is where i got lost three times. coordinates for the vaguely expensive yet empty hotel. pro-move: don’t click the ‘youtube’ link on the google map. just don’t.

tomorrow: try that yoga place everyone whispers about. heard the instructor mutters moksha texts mid-handed downward dog. or maybe that was the man selling incense? hard to tell. guesthouse has a fridge marked ‘no peeking’-curiosity makes me hate it.

(images here)
^ first is the river at dawn, second is the night market (if you call a streetlight a ‘night market’?), third is a kid eating ice cream too aggressively. fits the energy of the place.

overheard a guy at the café mutter, ‘why do you think they call it renuka? they’re just god’s hairpin.’ deep. also, someone told me the tap water’s better than the brew from the mumbai guy’s tricycle coffee stand. not true. tasted 47 cups. all regrets.