India Journal: We’re Not In Kansas Anymore!

In crafting my sabbatical I purposefully opted not to plan very much.  Against my nature, I organized only my flight, a pick up at the airport in Delhi, and a hotel for the first two nights. Upon my arrival (at 2:00 am), I was greeted by what seemed like 5,000 animated Indians speaking dozens of dialects, waving signs, grabbing bags and offering rides.  The sights, sounds and scents were all loud, chaotic and unfamiliar, yet somehow not frightening.  To call it sensory overload would be an understatement, yet it was the perfect introduction to the duality that epitomizes the country.

My driver was not there, however I quickly made change, found a phone and called him, only to find he thought my flight arrived the next morning. He was picking up other passengers but could get to me within the hour.  After a harrowing trip through the streets of Delhi we arrived at the hotel.

I spent the day touring around and quickly realized, amazing as it was, I was ready to move on. I arranged a ride to Rishikesh for the following morning.

During the long ride the driver regaled me with history, lore and customs of the area.  He was delicately formal in our interaction and abundantly generous with his knowledge.  I was so excited as we neared Parmarth Niketan (although my enthusiasm was briefly interrupted by a 45 minute wait for cows to cross the road).

Parmarth is located on Ganges River in the Himalayas and for many it is the chosen destination for a holy pilgrimage.  Each day people arrive in groups to worship, make offerings, cleanse in the Ganges and take part in the evening aarti ceremonies.

On my first night in Rishikesh I sat on the ghat (steps leading down to the river) and watched from afar.  The joyful, undulating crowd singing, praying, making offerings of flowers and incense to the Mother Ganga.  It was amazing!  I was swept up into the crowd and soon found myself on the water’s edge.  A brass plate with a flame was being passed around, arms stretched out to touch the plate and motion the heat from the flame to their face three times.

At one point a group of pilgrims excitedly offered me the plate – they wanted to share this experience with me.  They made a gesture to me that seemed to tell me to go toward the River and I thought they were telling me to place the plate in the water (as I had seen in pictures) – the commotion around me as I bent down made it clear this was not the case!  A woman took my arm, lifted me up and swept her hand from the plate toward my forehead.  The heat washed over me and I opened my eyes to exultation. In the darkness, with the river rushing past people from infancy to old age were swaying, smiling, dancing, grabbing, pushing, hugging, chanting – and pulling me to their prayer.  For many this was a pilgrimage they had waited a lifetime to make and I was so grateful for their embrace.

I expected India to be a practical, rather than religious experience – yet from my first night in Rishikesh I found it’s chaos and frenzy the perfect place to engage in the most spiritual of practices – listening to myself.

As the crowd dispersed I found myself moving closer to the water.  It was deep into the night, darkness surrounded the ghat and the energy of the Ganga roared loudly.  As I stared out into the rushing water I learned the first lesson India offered me - All of life is constant motion; both the good and bad will flow regardless of our efforts to cling to the good times or hurry the bad.

This news made me smile.  I walked back to my room and fell asleep to chanting beneath my window.