5:00am-wake up. First thought: “I would give my right arm for a cup of strong black coffee right now.”
I wake up at 5am. Classes start at 6am and end around 6:30pm-monday to saturday. It has been a very intense learning experience but it is why I came here. I keep reminding myself of this.
On alternating days we begin with Neti, a technique of cleansing the nasal passages and sinuses using a solution of warm water and salt. We, as a group, crouch on the ground in front of the school and tilt the Neti pot into our nostrils as a steady flow of water is released through the other nostril. What began as a practice that stirred both discomfort and humiliation, has now become a rather intimate morning ritual shared between myself and the other five members in my group. As a person who typically starts my day snorting and sniffing like a snotty toddler, I have grown to appreciate this practice.
We begin with the studying and practice of mantra chanting, followed by pranayama and morning yoga. After breakfast, we practice Tratuk, a meditation that involves staring at a single point such as a dot or a flame for a prolonged period. Then, lessons on yoga/Vedic philosophy. In the afternoon, we study meditation terminologies and practice various techniques. Then more yoga. I will go into these practices in greater detail on another blog. For now, let’s focus on our first full day off.
In my cohort, there is me, Dishaa, a young woman from Pune in the west of India, Ravi who is from Varanasi, Daniel from Israel, Dhillon from Boston, and Jerry from Mumbai. We are from diverse backgrounds and ethnicities, to say the least, however there is a pleasant cohesiveness to our group. Everyone is just authentically kindhearted.
On our first morning off, Jerry, Dishaa, Daniel and I went for breakfast at a café and spent the morning discussing our respective political climates. I had my first cup of coffee since arriving a week ago and felt a tad guilty for doing so, as though I had just relapsed from the one drug that has me ensnared. Also, I should note that the town of Rishikesh is vegetarian/vegan, yet as a carnivore, I have willingly and quickly adapted. The food here is heavenly and with the added benefit of being exceptionally healthy.
By the end of breakfast, we had made a plan to go on an adventure, rent a couple bikes and find the “secret” local waterfalls. Dishaa decided to hang back and so it was me and boys and Esty, one of Daniel’s friends that he met here in Rishikesh.
We walked out of the school and I noticed that the guys had nothing with them. “You aren’t bringing water? Towel? Anything?” They looked at each other and shrugged. We meet up with Esty who is all of five feet with auburn hair. Like Daniel, she is also from Israel. She has been here a month and knows of a place where we can rent some bikes. It goes without saying if you followed any of my other blogs which highlight my near-death experiences as a driver, that I have resigned to be the passenger of whomever will take me. Jerry agrees to let me ride with him. Once at the bike shop, Esty asks how much it will cost to take the bikes for the day. The Man at the counter asserts that it will be 500 rupees, which is the equivalent to $8.00. Esty tells him that her brother knows of a place where it costs only 350 rupees (about $6.00). He shakes his head, “no”. We stand in silence. Jerry chimes in, “how about 400?” He agrees. Esty interjects, “ No, 350”. He looks at her and stares. It’s a stalemate. I’m uncomfortably silent. Eventually, he sighs and shakes his head. “Ok”. Wow, I think, that Esty has some balls. She and Daniel take a scooter and Jerry goes for the big guns and rents ‘The Royal Enfield Bullet’.
Jerry knows what he is doing. He lives in Bombay and has a bike similar to the one we rode and is used to this mania. I am surprisingly calm and intuitively trust that I am in good hands. I sling my leg over the back and grab on tight to the bars. Esty jumps on the front of the scooter and Daniel rides on the back. I am worried about Esty on the bike. She expresses she has only ridden a couple of times back home.
We enter the stream of blaring vehicles.
I keep looking back at Esty. She is slouched forward gripping gears with a look of supreme fearlessness in her eyes. We begin the ascent up the mountain. The road to the “secret” local waterfalls was more congested than the city traffic.
It is worse, in fact, because there was only one way up and one way down. Piles of rubble block various points of the road. I am intrigued that amidst this mayhem no one is cursing or gesturing. The honks are more of a courtesy, “watch your back I’m right behind you” rather than gestures of provocation. Eventually, we made it. We park the bikes and look towards the crowded path that will take a 20-minute trek to the falls.
Jerry suggests we keep going up the mountain. Without much hesitation, we all agree. I look to Esty who’s brow is sweating from the storm she escaped unscathed. “Esty” I say, “you might be the most impressive woman I have ever met”. And I meant it. Wealth, social prominence… these do not impress me. Small women without fear charging a male-dominated circus of traffic… now that is impressive. And… she brought water and a blanket.
We continue up the green Mountains of Uttarakhand passing Macaques monkeys flinging around us eyeing up our potential for snacks.
We stop for gas at a shack where a woman hands us a water bottle full of petroleum- 500 rupees to fill. There are few people on the dirt road aside from us and thus the incessant honking decreases. As we get higher, I can feel the warm air become cleaner.
We were told there is a camp with fresh pools higher up. Once parked, we hike into the mountains and follow the stream leading us over a small bridge. My heart is opening with every crooked step. I’m giddy with anticipation. This moment is why I travel. The moments that unfold spontaneously and organically yet under a veil of knowing as though it was predestined.
We arrive. There is a clearing with a few straw tents. A man lays under a blanket of plastic napping beside a mural of Buddha.
Below I can see the pool of water and the natural stream of water above it.
My body has been craving water since I left my ocean back home. Within seconds my clothes are off and I am gliding under the water. Floating on my back, looking up at the sky, I had that moment. The notable moment of every trip. Usually, it involves water.
I think of the driver when I landed stating empathically in response to the honking, “this is India”. And with the warm air on my face and my body floating in the natural pool of mountain water, completely at peace, I think… “this… this is also India”.
We made our way down around sunset and stopped at a stand for some chai tea to watch the sun spill behind the stream of cars beginning their descent.
The day was magical to say the least. We so often fear the unknown, never considering the gold dust that awaits in the face of it. I found my gold dust on this glorious Sunday.
We capped off the night by eating at a local restaurant. I ordered the Gujarat Delux Thali, a platter of matter paneer, sukhi sabji, papad for a whopping 150 rupees ($2.50).
I toddled back to my room, my legs stiff from riding and mouth slightly on fire, feeling the most satisfied I have felt for as long as I can remember.
In Hindi they don’t really have a word for goodbye.
Phir Milte Ha- See you again.
Namaste