Frank Kusy > Quotes

“My meal arrived. It was a bowl of tepid, green curried water with two spinach leaves floating in it. The waiter called it 'vegetable soup'. I called it inedible slop.”
― Frank Kusy, Kevin and I in India

“After a lifetime of soft, easy living in the West, one's buttocks take an awful hammering out here. Backpacking around India is just one long round of sitting on bone-hard, chafing, bruising and generally uncomfortable seats-whether in buses our trains, or restaurants or cinemas. There is no such thing as a padded seat in the whole country.”
― Frank Kusy, Kevin and I in India

“Few of us could speak the other's language, but all of us had by now discovered the lodge's unique 'outside toilet'…which transcended all national barriers. The lodge owner wouldn't let you use it unless you promised to lock yourself in with a special key. Everybody thought this odd, but they understood his concern once inside. The loo was just two parallel blocks of wood laid either side of a big hole in the floor. You went in, squatted down on the blocks, felt the gust of chill air wafting up your nether regions, looked through legs, and watched the bottom fall out of your world for a sheer drop of two thousand feet! The reason for locking the door was obvious. Any unwitting interloper who swung it inwards when you were squatting over that hole was certain to knock you off your perch and straight down it. And that would be a one-way trip to oblivion. With your trousers round your ankles”
― Frank Kusy, Kevin and I in India

“two of them, Ivan and Sergei, had strolled in, squinting curiously at my market stall. They seemed particularly interested in all the silk clothing I had just brought back from India. Ivan—the tall, dark, handsome one—was relatively polite. He waved a slender hand at his own stall, packed with the very same silk, and said, ‘I think we have a problem.’ Viktor—his short, psychotic brother—was more to the point. The stubby fingers of one hand curled around my table, lifted it and tipped the whole thing over. He glared at me. ‘If that goes back up,’ he growled, ‘I’m”
― Frank Kusy, Rupee Millionaires

“Damoder climbed slowly to his feet. 'Buy lot!' he wheedled, 'I am poor man. I sell you cheap. I am bank-Rupert! Apparently the only things that could save him from bank-rupertcy were our dollars.”
― Frank Kusy, Rupee Millionaires

“Dev was his name, and he was secretary to the prince Siddhartha, the man who would become Buddha. He had watched with envy as the young prince lived the life of luxury in his fine palace. He had watched with scorn as the royal one then gave it all up to live like a hermit in the forest. Then, as the Buddha gained his enlightenment under the Bo tree and began preaching the Way for all people to escape suffering, Dev grew respectful of him and stopped watching.  He joined the assembly of the World Honoured One, and sought out his special favour. And when this was not granted, when he was told that all men were equal and no one should hold court over another, his arrogance had bested him and he left the company of monks forever. To find his own truth, he said, but the only truth he found was in the arms of a woman – a beautiful but scheming witch named Rashila.”
― Frank Kusy, Ginger the Buddha Cat

“Chant to see your kyo’, said Dick when I posed this second question. ‘Kyo is the final syllable of Nam myoho renge kyo, and it means “sound and vibration”. Every living thing has its natural path in life – the way it vibrates most naturally with its environment. Fish swim naturally, birds fly naturally, but human beings, blinded by illusion and the three poisons of greed, anger and stupidity all too often miss their natural calling in life. I would like you – not just you, Frank, but all of you – to go away and chant to see your kyo, to see where you can become your greater selves and create maximum value for kosen rufu or world peace.’ Dick’s”
― Frank Kusy, Too Young To Be Old: From Clapham to Kathmandu

“While George fell asleep in the back of the bus, I examined his outfit, noting that my strange American friend had now got his ‘world traveller’ apparel down to a fine art. His compact munchkin figure wore a short-cropped jeans jacket from Nepal over a ratty pink T-shirt he’d picked up in Bangkok which was decorated with the simple message, ‘Fuck You.’ Beneath a pair of worn out, fashionably torn Levis from Dharamsala poked a brace of dusty hiking boots obtained second-hand from a hill porter in Manali. All this was topped by an expandable Afghani hat, into which he tucked his long, matted dreadlocks. As for his bespectacled features, these were rendered quite dwarfish by a wispy little beard, cut short at the cheeks and running wild below the chin. A glittering array of chunky ethnic rings adorned each finger. He actually had an extra one—fortunately out of sight—which had been inserted into his penis during his last foray into Paharganj. Around his neck hung a final touch: a valuable Zzi-bead necklace purchased from a Tibetan family in Ladakh for the considerable sum of 1600 dollars. Nobody looking at him would have guessed that this was the foremost wholesaler of hippy goods into America.”
― Frank Kusy, Rupee Millionaires

“He was lonely. I could see that. He was working his butt off-and mine, too-in the hope that a million rupees might sort out his sex life. I prayed to Buddha he would be successful. If he didn't get some action soon, I doubted I would, either.”
― Frank Kusy, Rupee Millionaires