The arrival of M from Rishikesh and a congregation of red faced bastard monkeys as coffee is drunk and food opened in error drawing a crowd, ready and willing to pounce at the first sign of distraction. 
The breakfast gathering accompanied by the clattering of sticks and voices everyone heads down to the busstand for a lunch of channa samosa, the same place I remember, still open, still wonderful. 
Later a walk around the lake and up to the Buddhist temple, a meeting with an American who, despite what her visa says, isn't a tourist. But it's india and that kind of shit seems to flourish here, the mystic having an endless capacity for drawing people in and maybe most of us carry a bit of baggage regarding those subcultures which we'd rather not be viewed as part of, our biases accompanying us as we weave our way around..
Later an endless thali for 80 rupees and a taste of milk cake which demands a piece travels north to Vashisht.