Recently a writer from The Times of India wrote to me, and asked me some questions about the German Bakery cafe in Pune India.(it was destroyed by a bombing one year ago today. Blessings and prayers to the friends and families of those who lost their lives). This vingette was my way of answering the questions...below the vingette is a link to the Times article


Taking the steps down into the dark smoky recesses of the German Bakery was crossing the threshold of a Cosmic rip in time. The cave like wings of the L shaped seating area were the gathering place of interplanetary vagabonds, lost angels, mystics, prophets, tourists, locals, beggars, dealers, stealers, goddesses, Buddhas, madmen, fairies. Indian, Chinese, Koreans, French, Italian, Polish, American, Canadian, Nepalese, Turkish, Mexican, Danish, Swiss, German, Palestinian, Israeli….(just to name a few)…young old, hungry, starving expats, vacationers, those who meditate, those against meditation, students, illiterate, rich, poor…and (more).

I came to India for the Osho Meditation Resort…but everyone who’s been in Pune more than a month or two knows that the German Bakery was the real ashram. I lived there…I ate all my meals there, talked with enlightened masters there, fell in love there, sat in silence there, made new friends, met old friends, and drank chai, espresso, papaya juice, pinapple juice, ate eggs and toast and potatoes, (and warm banana muffins!)

The Nepali boys were always smiling, always laughing, and the guard waving his staff at beggars, rocking back and forth in his uniform…smiling & silent…coffee steaming and cigarettes steaming, and laughter and talking and hugging and discussing and seeking and finding…scooters and rickshaws rattling. My day began there and ended there…
The GB was often the last place I would go before leaving Pune to return to the states…and the first place I would go when arriving back in Pune. From 2003-2007 I spent my winters in Pune (then returned to the states). Some of the very grandest & best times of my joyous life were in the GB. I would ride my blue and chrome Enfield into the back parking lot, park the bike and saunter through the shops into the bakery…you never knew who you would meet or what you might find there…

I heard about the Bombing from email and then followed it on Facebook…just the thought of it drains the blood out of my face…I was devastated at the news…since I was not there, and have not returned to India since…it still does not seem real to me…when I found out it felt like someone had blown a hole through my heart…I was shaken to the core. My sense of the world was upside down. Now, the German Bakery is a place inside of me. A place where I met the most beautiful people in the world. A place where all races & nationalities were part of the same family. A place where I had so many incredible moments. A place inside my heart that can never be broken or taken away.


http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=VE9JUFUvMjAxMS8wMi8wOCNBcjAwMzAx&Mode=HTML&Locale=english-skin-custom