With Doctor Bagi in the Dispensary ...

We walked carefully through the shadowy rooms with their treasures of mysterious herbs and forked roots - slow burning wood heated large vessels filled with dark liquids -

There were sinister looking presses to grind the roots, smaller presses to mould pills -

Doctor Bagi had told us there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Ayuvedic medicines - when I thought of the three Doshas, I was reminded of Galen's humours - 

In his dispensary, ranged upon the shelves, were legions of bottles, each one brimming with a potent cordial - 

We examined samples of medicinal seeds, tubers and dried leaves - they were set out upon a blue glass plate, like strange gifts - 

Doctor Bagi's father was also an Ayuvedic practitioner - he wrote poetry and had been a teacher - I could sense his austere presence, although we never saw him -