Mother Ganga

Today began around 2 am with the rattling of the grates on my window. Hesitantly I pulled back the curtains to find myself face to face with a family of monkeys.

From then until an hour or so before sunset, the day was more or less a blur. Checking out ashrams, hotels, inquiring about journeying to Deoprayag-the source of the Ganges, trying the ATM, downloading pictures onto a CD, several attempts at the internet....

The day cleared while writing my group-destined to begin arrving 7 days from today. An incredibly handsome Westerner; dressed as an Indian on spiritual journey with a Brahmin cord; sits bedside me and we begin the typical foreign banter. "Where are you from? How long have you been here? What brings you here..." I share with him my scouting mission to find an ashram for my group and he suggests several places. Our stories unfold and I share my concerns about how to gently warn these newcomers to India how very different India really is.

"Just allow it to be. Freedom of thought" says the man who studies with a guru deep in the wooded Himilaya. "say too much and they come with expectation".

Behind us a blue eyed, blond in teeny tank interjects, "You should tell them something, I never knew how unnerving their stares would be and the, the, everything of India is beyond anything I have ever experienced and I have been in South East Asia for 4 months. . Tell them, prepare them but in a light hearted way. India is everything and more." (she is refering to the chaos, the noise, the pollution, the masses of people.........)

The wise white Brahmin smiles with a smile only someone who has spent months, if not years, in India would smile. "yes, but if they practice yoga they must know, they must understand India to some degree". True. I am sure they are grounded and have strong foundation, but even I find myself surprised over and over again with each visit....no words....

"Come" he says, "I will introduce you to an ashram where I take yoga classes just past the bridge." Having exhausted all but a few leads gathered today, I gladly follow.

We walk, dodging cows and dung, passing stretched hands and murmering saddhus. Sidestepping beeping motorcycles and throngs of Indian pilgrims. Conversation resting on his stint in Japan as a model and dating the "Hilton sisters" of Tokyo. Forays at the Oriental in Bangkok to finding his guru and studying Sanskrit here in the Himalaya.

The ashram holds promise. It looks clean, is quiet, and supposedly there is yoga on a daily basis. But none of the 8 men mingling around reception could give details of accommodation, prices, availabilty. "Tomorrow come to reception, but not here at Shwarg Ashram, to the office"

"But this entire area is Shwarg Ashram, where is the office?"

"Up"

"Up?"

"Yes, up at the office."

"Is there a name to the office so that I can find it?"

"Yes, shwarg ashram up 5, 10 minutes walking"

"walking where?" I ask, "If I come here tomorrow, can someone bring me to the office"
"Yes, the office make reservation tomorrow after 10 morning time" says the young man with a wide smile.

I do so love this country.

Sunset on the horizon, the Brahmin asks if I'd like to join him for a 3 dip swim in the Ganga.

Alarms sound...Didn't the CDC doctor tell me I that the only fresh body of water that I need to avoid is the Ganges? Aren't there nasty little parasites that can bore into your skin and begin eating its way out? Isn't it a sacred river and I am white, Catholic woman? I am in my street clothes...

and to the Brahmin I say "why not, I've never taken a swim in the Ganges" and we chatter about maple sugaring in New England and our days of homesteading when Martin and I lived in Vermont.

It was marvelous. Diving into the current, emerging with a burst of air to see the hazy sun dipping behind domed temples, the sacred moutnains rising above dozens of bathing ghats, men and women dunking away Karma both past and present.

Three times we dove, allowing the current to take us to shallow waters. Three times I surfaced from the cold waters reborn. Pure delight.

I left him to his evening prayers and warmed my body, clothes soaked, with a tea from Jeetal, the chai wallah who is teaching me a little Hinid. Remembering. really remembering just why I am so addicted to travel.

I believe, India is the discovery of yourself....

sorry no pictures, still trying to figure out how to make that happen here