I first traveled to India in February, 1986. I had very little information about traveling in India, only the Lonely Planet Guide. Back at that time, friends and family used to ask, "Why India? Why don't you go to Europe?" I could only answer, "I don't want to go to Europe; I want to go to India." I had been practicing yoga for almost ten years and back at that time it was hard to find information about it. I decided to go to the source, so I took leave from my job and bought a plane ticket to India.
I arrived in New Delhi and met two women from Texas on the bus from the airport. One woman had been the daughter of a missionary and had grown up in India; her friend had never been out of the county in Texas in which she was born. I spent three delightful days with them. We toured New and Old Delhi and the Taj Mahal at Agra. The missionary's daughter showed us the ropes of getting around in India - how to hire a rickshaw, how to bargain with merchants, how to use an Indian toilet - the important stuff. Thanks to her I wasn't totally lost. A few days later they flew on to Chennai.
A casual acquaintance back home had given me a package for his cousins that I was to drop off at the New Delhi headquarters of the Seventh Day Adventists. They were teachers at a school in Roorkee, Uttarakandh. When at arrived at the headquarters and tried to drop it off, the people at headquarters insisted that they should drive me there so I could deliver it in person. So I took a hair-raising half day car ride to Roorkee to the Seventh day Adventist School there. I was treated like a visiting dignitary and given a tour of the school and stayed as a guest at the principal's home.
The next day the teaching staff took me on a tour to Haridwar, a holy city on the banks of the Ganges River which was another few hours' drive away. Haridwar was preparing itself to host the Kumbh Mela, the largest gathering of human beings on the planet, held every third year at one of four holy cities where it was said that drops of the Nectar of Immortality had been spilled in the fight between the Devas, the celestial beings, and the Asuras, the beings of the underworld. Haridwar reminded me somewhat of Chattanooga, where the Tennessee river makes a big curve called Moccasin Bend around Lookout Mountain. The Ganges river enters the plains from the foothills of the Himalayas. I waded in the water at the ghats, the stone steps that line the river bank. The current was swift and the water clear and cold. I saw the sadhus with their jata, dreadlocks. Some had hair so long it fell all the way to the ground. Some were dressed in orange, some only in loincloths, some naked. One young man was so beautiful and graceful as he dried his long hair that I suspected he might be Lord Shiva Himself.
I had a horrible trip back to Delhi on the bus and shortly after I arrived back in Delhi, I was terribly ill for several hours. I slept for twenty-fours straight. I spent several days trying to figure out what to do next. I met a British woman who told me about her travel agent, so I visited him and he arranged a tour to Jaipur, Aurangabad, Mumbai (Bombay) and back to Delhi. Jaipur is called the pink city due to the pink stone of its buildings. I stayed in a mini-palace in a garden that was quite like something out of a fairy tale. I had a spectacular view of some craggy mountains, and as the sun set, huge thunderclouds loomed over the mountains, slowly making their way toward us, lit by brilliant flashes of silent lightning. Hours later, the thunderstorms arrived and rain poured down, drenching everything.
When I arrived at Aurangabad, I toured the caves temples at Ellora. The Kailasanath Temple was awesome beyond description. It was a mountain that had been carved from the top down to create a vision of Kailash, the mountain abode of Lord Shiva, supported by a base of life-size stone elephants. I spent some time alone in the inner sanctum with the huge lingam, a stone column that represents the transcendent, formless presence of Shiva, the One who is bright, auspicious and shining, the Lord of Yoga.
My rickshaw driver asked me if I would like to visit a jyotirlinga temple. I had heard of the jyotirlingas but had no idea I would be near one. Of course I would! He took me to Grishneshwar temple. This was a busy temple with many visitors, but in the inner sanctum there were only two people worshiping the lingam. I didn't know what to do, but I knew this was special, so I simply stood quietly near and prayed to Lord Shiva for His grace.
After Aurangabad, I went on to Mumbai. I had more adventures, saw more things, but really my trip was winding down. I had seen enough. One evening I sat in my hotel room and watched flocks of pigeons and green parrots soaring through the dusty, hazy afternoon rays of sunlight slanting through the trees in the hotel courtyard. Even there in New Delhi in a high-rise modern hotel, I felt India with her arms around me as an ancient, mysterious, divine presence. I knew I had been changed by my journey. My life had turned, like the bend of the river, and I was now flowing onward in a different direction than when I had arrived.
I thought of something that someone told me about her trip to India... "I can't say I had fun," she reflected, "But I would go back." I felt the same way. It had not been fun. It had been one of the most challenging things I had ever done, dealing with the rigors of solitary travel in an unknown land, strange customs, a language barrier, relentless beggars and other uncomfortable and sometimes frightening situations. However, I had made it through. I felt that I had broken through an invisible barrier that separated me from my true self, and I was now more in touch with my own heart and mind. Yes, I too, would go back.
I arrived in New Delhi and met two women from Texas on the bus from the airport. One woman had been the daughter of a missionary and had grown up in India; her friend had never been out of the county in Texas in which she was born. I spent three delightful days with them. We toured New and Old Delhi and the Taj Mahal at Agra. The missionary's daughter showed us the ropes of getting around in India - how to hire a rickshaw, how to bargain with merchants, how to use an Indian toilet - the important stuff. Thanks to her I wasn't totally lost. A few days later they flew on to Chennai.
A casual acquaintance back home had given me a package for his cousins that I was to drop off at the New Delhi headquarters of the Seventh Day Adventists. They were teachers at a school in Roorkee, Uttarakandh. When at arrived at the headquarters and tried to drop it off, the people at headquarters insisted that they should drive me there so I could deliver it in person. So I took a hair-raising half day car ride to Roorkee to the Seventh day Adventist School there. I was treated like a visiting dignitary and given a tour of the school and stayed as a guest at the principal's home.
The next day the teaching staff took me on a tour to Haridwar, a holy city on the banks of the Ganges River which was another few hours' drive away. Haridwar was preparing itself to host the Kumbh Mela, the largest gathering of human beings on the planet, held every third year at one of four holy cities where it was said that drops of the Nectar of Immortality had been spilled in the fight between the Devas, the celestial beings, and the Asuras, the beings of the underworld. Haridwar reminded me somewhat of Chattanooga, where the Tennessee river makes a big curve called Moccasin Bend around Lookout Mountain. The Ganges river enters the plains from the foothills of the Himalayas. I waded in the water at the ghats, the stone steps that line the river bank. The current was swift and the water clear and cold. I saw the sadhus with their jata, dreadlocks. Some had hair so long it fell all the way to the ground. Some were dressed in orange, some only in loincloths, some naked. One young man was so beautiful and graceful as he dried his long hair that I suspected he might be Lord Shiva Himself.
I had a horrible trip back to Delhi on the bus and shortly after I arrived back in Delhi, I was terribly ill for several hours. I slept for twenty-fours straight. I spent several days trying to figure out what to do next. I met a British woman who told me about her travel agent, so I visited him and he arranged a tour to Jaipur, Aurangabad, Mumbai (Bombay) and back to Delhi. Jaipur is called the pink city due to the pink stone of its buildings. I stayed in a mini-palace in a garden that was quite like something out of a fairy tale. I had a spectacular view of some craggy mountains, and as the sun set, huge thunderclouds loomed over the mountains, slowly making their way toward us, lit by brilliant flashes of silent lightning. Hours later, the thunderstorms arrived and rain poured down, drenching everything.
When I arrived at Aurangabad, I toured the caves temples at Ellora. The Kailasanath Temple was awesome beyond description. It was a mountain that had been carved from the top down to create a vision of Kailash, the mountain abode of Lord Shiva, supported by a base of life-size stone elephants. I spent some time alone in the inner sanctum with the huge lingam, a stone column that represents the transcendent, formless presence of Shiva, the One who is bright, auspicious and shining, the Lord of Yoga.
Kailasanath Temple
My rickshaw driver asked me if I would like to visit a jyotirlinga temple. I had heard of the jyotirlingas but had no idea I would be near one. Of course I would! He took me to Grishneshwar temple. This was a busy temple with many visitors, but in the inner sanctum there were only two people worshiping the lingam. I didn't know what to do, but I knew this was special, so I simply stood quietly near and prayed to Lord Shiva for His grace.
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| Grishneshwar |
I thought of something that someone told me about her trip to India... "I can't say I had fun," she reflected, "But I would go back." I felt the same way. It had not been fun. It had been one of the most challenging things I had ever done, dealing with the rigors of solitary travel in an unknown land, strange customs, a language barrier, relentless beggars and other uncomfortable and sometimes frightening situations. However, I had made it through. I felt that I had broken through an invisible barrier that separated me from my true self, and I was now more in touch with my own heart and mind. Yes, I too, would go back.
Thanks for sharing :)
ReplyDeleteAlways inspiring and showing us the way.
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