The heart is the true kabba:)

Before we started our walk, we went to Brahma Vidhya mandir, Pavnar, to seek blessings from the elders, some of whom have walked thousands of kilometers as part of the land gift movement along with Vinoba Bhave. 

I remember having a conversation with Usha tai around ego and relationships. To expand on the idea she shared about one of the practices they follow in the ashram, Sarvanumati, i.e., consent of all. This meant that, from the smallest to the biggest decisions, all were made only after each and every one in the ashram had reached consensus. There are thirty of them living in the ashram for many years, practicing the same principle.



She explained further with an example, saying, "If I want to conduct a workshop at the ashram, the proposal will be put across to everyone in a meeting. If everyone agrees, I will go ahead. But if even one person is unwilling to attend that workshop, the event will remain on standby. Unlike the majority, where 51% wins against 49%, which happens in a democracy. 49% is equivalent to zero. But in the case of Sarvanumati, even if 99% of people agree on one thing, the 1% view is equally taken into consideration because "h one matters."

We asked her, "How do you feel when your project or something that you really want to do is put on standby or told no?"
She very gracefully answered, asking us, "What matters more to my project or my love for the other person who is saying no? Yes, to some extent my ego will feel bad becau "e "there is an "I" a "sociated w "th "my project" but if I can extend my boundaries of love for the ot" e" person doesn't really "oesn't matter."

Here is a small note by Vinoba ji that I found on ways and means to bring consensus and the difference between Sarvanumati and Sarva sammati.

On that note, SheelaTai, in a different conversation, said something equally powerful. She said, "No matter what, it doesn't mean someone's breaking someone's heart. It is a very sacred place, and it reminded me of a poem by Rum, i  inwhich says:

Circle the Kaaba of the heart
If you possess a heart.

The heart is the true Kaaba,
The other is just a stone.
God enjoined the ritual
Of circling the formal Kaaba
As a way for you to find a heart.
But if your feet walk
Around the Kaaba a thousand times,
And yet you injure a heart,
Do you expect to be accepted?

Just thinking how would the world be if we looked at each heart as Kaaba, as a place of pilgrimage:)

I am the Universe

In my dreamlike state, I had always imagined myself sleeping under a tree with the sky hanging above. On the fourteenth day of the moon cycle, my wish comes true.

I lie down on the ground under which lies a web of strong roots. Some ants are busy collecting their food.

I can see the moon peeping from the roots hanging down from the banyan branch, reminding me that ‘change’ is the only ‘constant’, yet looking at it brings some stillness to me.

I hear crickets rubbing their legs to create a symphony around me.

The leaves gently dance as the wind comes to greet me.

The cow is making her presence felt by ringing the bells tied around her neck.

Meanwhile, I hear the dogs barking far in the dark old corners of the fields. 

The night has engulfed the light, so I can’t see the river flowing beside me. But I still know she is there with me.

Likewise, there is so much that I cannot see,e but it’s all inside me; the leaf, the ant, the roots, the star, the earth, the moon, and the river. Every unit is part of me.

I am the universe. The universe is in me. The universe is me.   

Extending the gift of presence:)

There are a few events that you feel like rewinding, and this was one of them. As we were walking on the highway, we saw a dog stumbling in front of a car. The car driver did not stop. Meanwhile, a teenage boy ran towards the dog, held him in his arms as if he were a small baby, and ran towards his home. Midway, we saw him pausing and placing the dog on the road.

Swara asked me if I wanted to go to the kid, and I said yes. The kid kept holding back his tears while looking at his dead dog. Meanwhile, the boy's grandmother came running in our direction and started scolding him for carrying his dead dog home and for all the time and love that he had invested in the dog. More family members joined in the chaos. At the back of my mind, I had flashes of a few deaths that I witnessed, and how the social chaos did not let me get in touch with how I was feeling. It had taken a few years to reconnect with and listen to that voice again and to make peace with it.

In between, the grandmother looked at us and identified us as parikrama-vasi, so she invited us for tea at her place, but we declined for the time being and stayed with the boy and the dog. Swara intertwined the chaos and asked the boy if he wanted to pray for a few minutes for his dog. Tears kept flowing while we held hands and prayed in silence. I could feel the pain of death, my own attachments, pain for lack of space for expression, and for being vulnerable.

One of the family members gave him a washed shirt as there were bloodstains on his clothes. He silently changed it. His mother asked him to go after the buffalo that he had left on the farm so that they wouldn't eat away the harvest. With a heavy heart and a little hesitation to leave the dog, he started walking towards his buffalo. Before we left that spot, Swara asked him if he wanted to cremate his dog, but he denied it, partly, I assume, because of social pressure. We saw him slowly walking toward his buffalo as we started heading toward the highway.

We looked through our bags to see if we had something to share with the kid, and we found some grapes someone had given us in the morning. Swara went to him and share, along with coins and told ,him to do an act of kindness with that money. Before leaving, she extended a big hug to him. 

When Swara started walking towards me, the boy called her and started checking his pockets. Swara thought he would be giving the money back. Instead, he took out the two ice candies that he had gotten for him and his younger brother and shared them with her, saying one is for her and one is for your sister:) I was witnessing this beautiful moment from a distance,e and this time it was tears of love flowing from our eyes. We knew how priceless those ice-candies were to the child, and to witness his giving, especially when he had lost something very close to his heart, was invaluable. We were walking through one of the driest patches, with no trees on the road, on a sunny morning. This encounter with the little kid made our hearts drenched in unconditional love, and we were reminded of the song Arun Dada sings, which includes the line, "Ankho ma pani to have ne jai nathe bhetar bhinash thate oche". (Water in the eyes comes and goes. But the moistness within never dries)    

While reflecting on what just happened in the last hour, I realized I might have witnessed the accident, maybe prayed, and silently walked ahead. It was a gift my co-pilgrim extended to me, which I experienced as the power of presence. I was thinking that in the later years, the boy might remember us. Not sure of that, but I would at least make an attempt to pause and share my presence next time. Grateful to my co-pilgrim for being the torchlight; where my consciousness ends, she gently shows me a step further:)

The Mother

A dear friend shared this song with us during our pilgrimage. And I feel so grateful to her because this song felt like an expression of our unsaid experience of being carried by an unknown yet known force gently across rivers, oceans, mountains, thorny roads, marshy land, and thick forest trails.

If asked, how would you describe the smell of the wildflowers, the breeze touching your eyes, or the smile of a newborn child? How would you describe the love that you have received from your mother? I might be able to share her actions or say her "doing" part, but not the essence of her "being" and the omnipresent love that I feel at all times. Likewise, it is hard to put into words the unconditional love, care, and compassion that wrap us day and night. 

As the artist shares, this song is a dedication to the feminine, to birthing, to compassion and love, to mother nature, mother earth, mother Reva, to all the mothers before me, to all the mothers after me, and to all the mothers around me.   

  

"She is a boat, she is a light

High on a hill in the dark of night
She is a wave, she is the deep
She is the dark where angels sleep
When all is still, and peace abides
She carries me to the other side,
She carries me to the other side...

And though I walk through valleys deep
And shadows chase me in my sleep
On rocky cliffs, I stand alone
I have no name, I have no home
With broken wings, I reach to fly
She carries me to the other side,
She carries me to the other side...

A thousand arms, a thousand eyes
A thousand ears to hear my cries
She is the gate, she is the door
She leads me through and back once more
When day has dawne,d and death is nigh
She'll carry me to the other side,
She carries me to the other side...

She is the first, she is the last
She is the future and the past,
Mother of all, of earth and sky
She carries me to the other side,
She carries me to the other side..."

p.s- We even have a version of this song by Rev. Heng Sure. 

Sometimes it is like this, Sometimes it is like that

This morning, while walking on the highway, I saw trees on both sides of the road forming a canopy above us. My mind said, " Oh! I don't need trees now. This patch should have come in the afternoon when the temperature is at its peak. 

Likewise, there are days when we are offered meals more than once, while on some days we would just have a packet of biscuits. It was interesting how, during our afternoon breaks, we would be invited by extremely warm host families who would most often ask us to stay for the day. We can't accept the request; evenings are difficult for us to find a secure, safe space to stay the night. I hear my tired mind say, where do these warm hosts vanish after sunset? 

This mindset was taking me away from the present moment and from embracing the gifts I had in the now. 

And it was later that I realized that this pilgrimage was all about being in the present. As soon as I found comfort or attachment with a person, place, or thing, it was time to move on. Attachment to the past was bringing suffering for the future.  

So the next time when the cloud came in front of the Sun to give us a little shade, or a child came running giving us a smile, or we took a little longer route, we remembered Kanti dada and with gratitude started singing- 

"Game game game life is a game. 

We came crying, crying 

We shall go laughing 

Sometimes it is like this, sometimes it is like that 

Game game game life is a .game."

Share some change :)

We hear a voice calling us from the other side of the road, and when we pause, we see this old grandfather waving his hand. We crossed the road and greeted him. Narmade har!!

He started searching for something in his pocket. We asked him what he was looking for. He replied by asking us whether we had three-rupee coins. We checked our pockets and found a ten-rupee note, which we gave him. He returned the note and kept checking all his pockets. In the meantime, Swara dropped a fifty-rupee note into his upper pocket, not sure if it was to tag him or so he could give it to us.  

He kept looking for about five minutes. Swara asked him to check his upper pocket; that’s when the neighbor said he couldn’t listen because of old age. Finally, he nods, saying he can’t find it. He wanted to give us some money because we were pilgrims.

We tell him to just bless us, and he smiles and shares his blessings. In a local dialect, he shared that he has also done the pilgrimage. When I showed him his picture on my phone,e he laughed out loud and waved us goodbye. 

We remembered our grandfather, who would give us not more than five rupees during Diwali. Jokingly, I told Swara that even if he had found the fifty rupee note, he would have asked for forty-eight rupees change:) 

Endless Love of Sakhi's

A few days ago, we met these extraordinary grannies in a village. After crossing a little stream, trekking up a rocky hill, and walking through a few farms, we reached Bel Gau. As we were walking through the village, we found a little space (otlo) to sit. We sat there for some rest, water,r and snacks.

There were friendly nods and greetings with people passing by. We shared snacks with the kids. They suggested that we can go to the nearby temple sometime to have food served. There wasn't any laziness or resistance, but we didn't get up. We kept sitting. In the middle of all this,s a granny invited us to her home for a cup of black tea. And both of us just started walking with her. She was coughing badly as she was leading the way.

She said I will call my friends to meet you. All of us did parikrama a few years back, and they will be very happy to meet you. One by one, the grannies started coming, and they called each other "Sakhi," which means "friend." There was joy and deep respect for each other, which was so subtle.

At one point, while we were sharing, I looked at one of them who was listening with her complete presence. I could feel that. The stillness and her presence made me feel so alive and quiet,t as if I were in a forest or in front of a mountain. We rested there for some time, and when I woke up, I felt I was in the company of these extraordinary angels.

One of the grannies sat with us for some time, then asked if she could go to her farm for a while. She promised she would come back soon. We hugged her and waved goodbye. Later in the afternoon, she brought us fresh carrots from her farm :)

Some of the distinct qualities they shared were respect for each other, deep listening, and sharing the good things they encountered. All of them were farmers, which meant hard work each day, year-round.

In just a few hours, we got a glimpse of their way of life, the quality of their presence, and the universal love of a mother. A gang of eight women came with us for half a kilometer just to say goodbye. When we were walking with them, we could sense courage, strength, and oneness beaming from each soul. We kept telling them to return, but as a few of them were not wearing their chappals (shoes), they continued walking. While we hugged and asked for blessings, they kept holding back their tears and shared words and blessings, giving us courage and strength for our journey ahead. It was an immense gift to receive these subtle gifts in multiple forms.

Nishkam Seva (Selfless Service)

As we got closer to Amarkanthak, a bunch of us got an invitation to black tea. It was an unexpected yet pleasant invitation, as the man who was serving us tea had his shelter almost in the middle of a forest, with hardly any people living around.

He asked us to follow the orange signboards as we walked further into the forest. He showed us a sample signboard we were meant to follow. We got curious as we had seen these boards in some of the remotest places.

We had all these questions -Was it a group of people? Or the nearby villagers? Who puts up these little markers?

We asked him if he knew who made them. He said that for eight months, I serve all the pilgrims here with tea, food, and shelter, and in the other four months, when they are not walking due to the rains, I paint these boards, take some nails, select an area, cycle, and put them up. He has been doing this for 12 years. What an invisible act of kindness!!! We bowed to him to share our gratitude and even shared how every time we would see the board, part of us said thank you, and part of us thought that whoever had done this must be crazy:) It was such a joyous moment for us to finally meet one of the faces of the one who has put so much effort just so that thousands of pilgrims walking do not lose their way. He has placed signboards in the forests, hills, near river beds, and on a few roads.

Likewise, we spotted this earthen pot filled with water under a shady tree. The water must quench the thirst of so many like us. When I looked around, there were only farms, which meant someone had gone to great lengths to bring water from a distance. Yet there was no one whom we could thank in person. We just closed our eyes, shared our gratitude, and walked with the seed thought of Nishkam Seva (Selfless Service.

Muddy roads and wild flowers

I feel that as we transition from a four-lane highway to a two-lane highway to a mud road passing through a village, we also see the connection between people transitioning. The more efficient the road, the less the probability of connection.

After finishing our morning part of the walk, we sat outside a mud house to rest for a while and reflect on a few things. We noticed a few women looking at us with inquisitive eyes. While the children were busy eating oranges and dates we shared with them, the adults were still holding that inquiry at a distance.

One woman sat a few feet away and kept looking at us. I could feel a constant gaze that was making me a little uncomfortable. We paused our conversation and considered connecting with her. We shared some fruits and waited for her to ask us something. But instead, she just kept looking at us. So, we continued our conversation. We again asked her if she needed anything,g and she nodded in silence, indicating she did not want anything.

I felt so conscious that I could not eat or continue the conversation. I started creating a mental wall as I felt there was an intrusion into the so-called “my space”. I asked Swara if this kind of behavior was intrusive or not courteous. She gave me a very different perspective on this. She said it’s not an intrusion; it’s their way of connecting with strangers walking by from their village. It’s their way of caring by just sitting and sharing their presence,, despite not wanting anything;, they are giving their time and attention capital.

My understanding of this perspective deepened when we were walking along a four-lane highway on our way to a big city. From my past experience over the last four months, I knew that finding shelter in a larger place was always difficult. We thought of approaching a few homes before the city began. We were asked a few questions about our whereabouts. Even in villages, we come across these questions, but in a city, we feel a certain mistrust, so we continue walking further.

As we were walking towards the city, Swara, on a lighter note, asked a few teenagers who were walking by our side if we could stay at their place, to which they very genuinely shared that we cannot, as the elders in their family consume alcohol, and it wouldn’t be safe for us. Interestingly, they suggested that we could go to the railway station and sleep on the platform. They thought that would be a rather safe place for us:)

That day, we must have crossed over fifty people, but we hardly made eye contact. We were hardly noticed in the big town, unlike in a small village. Despite so many people being around, I felt lost. I felt vulnerable as we were struggling to find the right place to spend the night. It took me back to my urban upbringing, where I would have missed so many opportunities to connect.

Both of us checked in with each other on how we were feeling, and, interestingly, while part of me felt vulnerable, another part of me was even surrendering to the higher design. I told Swara that the mother has made arrangements for all the pilgrims. We need to keep walking till we reach where we are meant to reach. And I could sense that the trust in the higher design shifted something in me. I think that something is the sense of certainty, the knowing. But pilgrimage is all about emergence:)

As we kept walking, we finally found that place via a gentleman who showed us the way to the nearby temple. He came with us just to make sure we end up at the right place,e meanwhile we spotted a Gurudwara. We asked if we could stay there, and that was our night shelter. This place felt like an oasis in the middle of the city. We are soaking in the peace and pious atmosphere of the space. While we were sitting on this side of the gate, the other side felt a little scary, despite being part of it for years.

A few questions I am holding for now are: have I made a distinction between these two worlds? What do I change inside me to merge both worlds together? How do I keep the oasis within me alive to nourish my surroundings?

Invitation of healing in disguise

Last week, while we were walking one afternoon, I noticed a red car passing by and felt it might stop to talk to us. While I took a break under the shade of a tree, Swara came to me and handed me a packet of biscuits and roasted chickpeas. She said two monks stopped by in a red car and gave it to her. She added that they saw me and felt that I wasn’t okay, so they went a few kilometers just to bring some food for us to eat. 

It’s interesting how we connect. Like, there were many cars on the road, but somehow I noticed the red car and connected with the people sitting inside. One of the monks said that we would be passing by his ashram in a few days, and if we wished, we could stop by.    

The monk spotted us again after three days while we were having a fruit break. We shared smiles, bananas, and gratitude for their kind gesture on that sunny afternoon. He warmly invited us to stay with him for a day, and his sister, who had just finished her third parikrama. And for the first few minutes, we kept convincing him that we had to walk 25 km that day, even though we had just begun. Finally, we set a deal to have tea together after which we would leave. He partially agreed and took our bags in his car so we could walk without the weight for a few kilometers.

His ashram was next to the Narmada River at Sahastradhara. Green, clean, and silent. Lalita di welcomed us with her warmest smile, and she exchanged her experiences from her recent parikrama over tea. And they now convince us with more love to stay with them, to which we couldn’t deny. Our minds took time to accept the “change” in the plan,n and that’s what pilgrimages are about. One has to let go and surrender to emergence, which is difficult at times. 

Interestingly,y when my body knew that today we were no longer walking,g it went into a repair mode. I started running a fever and had some body aches, and I knew it was time to just rest. For the rest of the day, while partly observing the sensations, I realized how amazing our bodies are. Till the time I was on the road, my body was all set to walk. As soon as I had a space to rest, it started to repair itself just so that I could continue my journey in a wholesome way. 

In the evening,, while sitting with our host famil,y, tears of gratitude flowed for their invitation, spa,ce, and uninterrupted presence that gave our bodies aminds the time to rest and heal. 

Learning to look beyond

I saw two roads ahead of me, but I avoided taking the shorter one. I spotted a butcher shop there. In the evening, when both of us sat for our prayers, Swara gave me a 10-rupee coin. She said a butcher, after bowing, gave it to her.

realized it was the same place I had avoided going for two reasons. First, I was a little uncomfortable looking at the flesh and the caged birds and second a part of me was guilty of being a non-vegetarian some years ago. Between these two, I missed the opportunity to connect to his goodness. 

He might not be earning much yet, but he thought of serving us on our pilgrimage. He was non-Hindu,  ,but this pilgrimage is mostly done by Hinduss, and yethe he stepped into his generosity and went beyond the lines of religion. His act of serving helped me reflect on the judgment that I was holding and gave me that 'jai shree krishna' window. 

After placing the coin near the lamp, unknowingly, both of us silently prayed for him to someday move to the right kind of livelihood. During the Vipassana course, the teacher discusses Samyak Ajivika (Right Livelihood), stating that any act we perform should not harm any being directly or indirectly. I was even reminded of a conversation with Arun Dada, where he said: "rotli nani hase to chalse, kadi na hovi joiye" (let your bread be small but let it not be black).