BACK TO RISHIKESH
On my walk the next day I became so aware of all the people on the street.I experienced it as a wave of souls. This wave becameThe One approaching me from in front and advancing upon me from behind and I realized how His grace is always descending upon us frome above.
Met Ingrid from Sweden at the Ganga view restaurant. She is spending time living with a couple Babas outside Laxman-Jhula. She invites me to lunch for the next day out where they are living. Neema’s son, (Neema and her husband are the owners of the Guest-house where I am staying and also the Ganga View restaurant) tells me he is also going to lunch at the Babas. So we go together on his motorbike.
It was a beautiful ride through the mountains, looking down at the Ganga as we wound our way through. Two other bikers joined us. A male European and a male Native American. I enjoyed watching the long black braid of the Native American flying in the breeze as he rode in front of us.
Upon our arrival after a good hour on the bikes we park and begin walking down a hill only to realize there is a shorter way to our destination and walk back up the hill. I was last up the hill. I tried to keep up, as I was embarrassed to lie so far behind. But I simply could not. I had to stop to catch my breath and give my legs a rest, as they just would not obey my mind of moving forward any longer. I was shocked. A couple Indians passed me and mentioned that it was because of my heart. Ya, I know. But I just did not realize to what extent that would be so limiting. By the time I got up the hill they were all on their bikes waiting for me. Back on the road we find the cut that Neema’s son was looking for. We road through a very, very narrow little path that had bricks to the side. It was actually a footpath that went straight down. I was told to just hold on. Of which I did and really fun!! After getting off the bikes it was a long walk in the hot sun. I was concerned about the heat as I had just been through the scary experience of getting sick in the sun only a few days ago. I began feeling weak and pulled out a tiny towel from my pack and placed over my head. There was a trickle of water running along some stones and I wet the towel and replaced it on my head. It was not much of a protection but I would take anything I could get. After awhile we meet our guests and have a typical Indian lunch on the ground under a tree. Thanks for the shade! After lunch, Ingrid leads me to a tiny stone structure, which was the living quarters of the Sadhus. Extremely rugged, the floors being dirt with big holes in it. There are a couple thin pieces of cloth on the dirt for sleeping and a simple fire, ah pit. Other than that there is nothing, not even a door. It was just a small space, rough loose dirt with big holes, and thin cloth layed out for sleeping. That was it.
The Sadhus are certainly wonderful. They are young, having decided early in life that the quest for God is the only thing that is important to them in life. They are perhaps in their twenties, and thirties. Their whole manner and communication was a delight to watch. Both spoke some below the waist English but as usual it was still hard for me to catch everything. One Sadhu had dread locks below his waist; mostly they wear them wrapped up on their head. The other one had long hair worn loose. Both had long beards.
Ingrid introduced me to one whom I would talk with later. He invited me in and we sat on the ground inside drinking Chai and munching on a sweet. We talked and I was keenly drawn to a beautiful light, or something, I am really not sure what it was, that radiated from his eyes. It made me focus and it was very calm and peaceful. Many things were said of which my memory eludes me now. He would talk then there would be a span of time of silence. What stands out is that he said,” Perhaps if you found what your desire was in the inner and then found what it was on the outside and then to see how these compare, that I could find what I was looking for.” When I said that I felt a guru if he chose to could simply touch you and you would be enlightened or enter samhadi, he said that if that was what I believe then yes to me it was possible. When I grew silent he mentioned we should go down the hill back to the others. However, when we arrived back to the group my party was ready to leave. I would have loved to spend time with him after having time to reflect. It had been difficult to understand him because of his heavy accent. But his voice was calm and peaceful with a very present feeling of knowledge I had not even pierced.
I am due to leave Laxman Jhula soon and have things I want to do but it is close to impossible now. They require hours in the sun of which I now know I am not comfortable to do.
My last three days I took care of Tsugumi as she has been sick. I go back and forth to the aryuveda doctor a few times a day through the thick crowds of the millions that are passing through the tiny streets of Laxman-Juhla, over the far bridge and into Ram Jhula and on to Haridwar for the Kumbhla Mela. I stay with Tsugumi many hours for the next three days.
The night before my departure Neema invites me to dinner. I stay with her in the kitchen as she prepares the food and we have great conversations. She tells me that no one has ever passed through her guesthouse that was like me and that I was welcome anytime. She wanted me to come back in November for her favorite festival. But that would be over 2 years ago now, as I write this and I have not been able to return.
The day came for me to leave for Naintal and I was packed and checked out of my room. I went to see how Tsugumi was doing and she had gotten worse. I canceled my train and also the train to leave Nainital for Delhi as my time in Nanital would be different now. I emailed my room in Nainital and changed the date for my arrival. I then went in search of a doctor that comes over from across the bridge to a little hole in the wall to dispense medicine. I felt reasonably sure that Tsugumi must have a parasite, ameba, or even geradia. The doctor agreed and gave me medicines. I brought them to Tsugumi and she began the treatment. Later back at my hotel I find that my room had not been rented so I moved back in. I would now be staying for 3 more nights. It has been agreed upon with Tsugumi that on the 4th day I would be leaving and if she had not improved she would go to the good clinic run by a very good doctor.
It is time to leave the guesthouse and my new family. I am very sad. I walk a distance and look back to see Neema still watching me. I smile and wave… Down the road from the guesthouse I see the love sick black bull. We have talked about him a lot. He is in love with one of the cows that lives behind the fence. It is quite sad as he always goes to see his beloved everyday and night and never able to be with her. I go back to check on Tsugumi before I leave and it is very hard to leave her too. She is better though and this makes me feel better. I leave her and walk down the 3 flights of stairs only to decide I must go back up and leave my dear, new daughter a gift. Upon arrival to her room we exchange gifts and I am once again heading down the stairs.
For some reason my journal of notes ends here. I have no idea as of why this is so. There is no reason why I would quit taking notes, but seeing only blank pages before me now, I will do my best to remember the rest of my journey.
I follow the directions given to me by the place I have made new reservations at. I could not get a train, as they were all full. I would have to go by taxi to Nanital. I walk with my pack back across the Laxman-Juhla Bridge, looking down at the Ganga once again, feeling the fresh air over the river. I walk the winding streets to the spot where I am to catch the taxi. I wait for a long time and it never shows up. I ask questions in a shop and the man tells me to go down the street to the main area where all the cars are parked. I am scared, insecure. I walk all over the lot and cannot find the car.
A man comes over to help me and tells me to go across the street to another place. I go and tell them what I am looking for and what place has set up the transportation for me. Then the bad news comes. The person who has set up the taxi ride for me is known to cause many problems for tourists. I sit down and tears begin falling down my face. I do not know what to do. The men in the little room get up and offer me a chair. The man behind the desk speaks in Hindi to another man and then I am told that this man will take me to the police station. We get in the car and soon I am at the police station where he lets me off and does not accept a fee for his service.
In the police department I am approached by a few officers but am told to wait for their superior. When he comes I begin to relate my story but seems I am not getting through. The anxiety of having paid for my trip and the knowledge that I do not have enough money to pay again once again brings me to tears. I am at a loss. I do not know what to do. The Chief Officer asks me what I am crying about and that I am a grown woman and that there is no need for tears. Clearly he does not understand my situation. He then brings me into a room where we sit at a table and has me relate the whole story to him once again. He notices the tattoo on my wrist and asks if I know Krishna. We have a short endearing conversation about Krishna and at the end he makes phone calls. Soon he tells me that the taxi will be coming to the police station to pick me up. The officer asks if he may write to me and of course I say yes. He gives me his address and asks me to write. I was going to write and thank him but…in to avoid opening a door for involvement I never do write.
My taxi driver comes along with a friend who will go along with him on the trip. He is very nervous and is explaining to the officer what the problem had been. I do not remember what it was all about, I just remember getting in the taxi and feel greatly relieved that once again I am on my way.
Next to come: NANITAL
No comments:
Post a Comment