In the musty, tiled apartment of the family of Hindu devotees that hosted us, they offered us durian.
The family and my father proclaimed:
”It has such a strong smell! Like gasoline!”
“Will you like it? It’s okay not to like it.”
I don’t remember having much of an opinion, except that it was an expansive creamy texture that was heavier then I expected. It felt pretty incompatible with the other foods that we had been eating: typically rice, curry and puris with our hands.
My father, Swami Vittalananda Saraswati, had brought us along on his trip to lead services for a family of Malaysian devotees of Shree Maa.