Beyond boundaries

There were no physical borders except for a check post, and we walked into the first village of Madhya Pradesh called Chhatkala. Due to plains and mountains, the cold wind greeted us straight in the face. We kept walking behind each other, keeping in mind the birds that fly high in the sky.

We reached a resting point. It was just the two of us in an open-air grilled temple. We rested for

some time, and then I went to look for another place to sleep at night. I walked through the marketplace. It took a little while to ask. I finally approached a fruit vendor and asked if any space was available for the pilgrims. to stay. She pointed to the same temple. She figured we were looking for some other place. There was silence for a few seconds, and then she shared how she wants to take us to her home, but she is not offering because the male members at her house consume alcohol. She herself is not happy with that, and she did not want us to be there in that environment.

She took me to a lane next to her stall and opened a dark room with the smell of stored fruits. She said, "This is safe, you and your sister can stay here". Her neighbors discouraged the idea. We walked back to her stall. I could see how much she wanted to do something for us. She offered us fruits from her stall. I deny it, but she said you are like my daughters, so keep it and share it with your sister too. She wasn't a Hindu, and parikrama might be out of context for her, but her compassion didn't have religious boundaries. I took the fruits that were now full of love, and somehow we didn't ask for any further place to stay.

In the evening, both of us, along with a few others, sat for the evening prayer at the temple. The prayers,

Temple Priest and Mai

silence, people's faith, oil lamp, musical instruments - everything was gently healing the scars that the ego had created. After the prayer, as we were about to spread our sleeping bags, the temple priest asked us about our journey, and in a moment, he invited us to his house. He says it's cold here and that the house will be safe for us.

I do not know if there is heaven up in the sky, but his home was our little paradise where I had the most peaceful sleep after leaving home. In the morning, we were treated to hot water for bathing (hot water has been a privilege so far) and morning tea with fresh milk prepared by Ma, who takes care of the farm.

Baba walked with us to show us the way and greeted us, saying Narmade Ha, showering us with his blessings.

As we enter the first village of Madhya Pradyesh (Chhatkala)
(This blog is written by my co-pilgrim, Swara)

What’s the message

Being a Vipassana practitioner, I was aware of sitting as a meditative practice. I had never imagined how much walking could churn my mind and bring up the gross and unresolved elements to the surface.

After the day's walk, I observed that I dreamt every day, and in the morning, I could remember these dreams crystal clear. Personally, dreams have been like a mirror, and I try to draw messages from them to understand the unresolved stuff.

Despite knowing that I have to practice observing my thoughts and sensations of pain, I fail each day. And I know that spill over does affect my co-pilgrim.

Today, during our silent time, while reflecting on a few thoughts, a middle-aged gentleman approached us and offered us a marigold. No words were exchanged, just the gesture of giving and receiving, and a few seconds of gratitude, and we started walking again.

Later in the evening, when we were reflecting, it struck us that the gentleman walked straight to us out of nowhere. There were no farms of this flower around, nd yet the flower was fresh. It wasn’t that he had maflowers; he offered one from them. He just had one flower.

The question we are holding is: what message did he bring us with that flower?

Joy of Unknown

This morning, we started from Garudeshwar. After walking for about 150 km, it feels as if I am entering an unknown territory. Unknown in terms of the geography because these are places I haven’t been to, as opposed to all the other villages we crossed before. From here on, we will be walking through the tribal belt, hills, sparse, scattered mud houses, local tribal dialects, little to no traffic, and small patches of farms. With that kind of silence unknown in the cities, we can hear children giggling from half a kilometer away. 

While walking in the known spaces, I knew people, places, kilometers, which way to go, where not to go, almost everything. Today was the first day when I knew nothing, not even the name of our next destinations. But there was joy in not knowing, in the uncertainty. 

A few kilometers of walking into the unknown,n and the gifts of the day start to unfold. Jagdish bhai stopped his cycle after greeting us, Narmade Har, and invited us for tea at his place. While we were walking to his house, he had done the pilgrimage thrice. 

He took our phone number and told us to stop at his sister's place in Undava village for lunch. He said her name is Amba and she stays next to the Hanuman temple, just go there, I will tell her to prepare lunch. Not only did he fix our lunch for the day, but he also fixed our lunch for the day after, too. 5 minutes of interaction and our two meals got fixed into homes we have never been to. When we ask the question why, the answer that comes to us is that we were walking on this path. This path is known as the path of Vairagya (renunciation). People here give with no strings attached; we feel that all the time. 

Jagdish bhai made sure that we took the right turns with the GPS of his heart; we reached Jeevanpura (Nani Ambaji), our shelter for tonight. 

Signing off from Nani Ambaji

Lineage helps dissolve the 'I'

In the afternoon, we reached Garudeshwar. This was our second home after Sinor. My granduncle stays here. When he was 28 years old, his nephew, who was 26 at the time, left home to live in solitude and spend time in longer meditations. They settled down in Nardeshwar,s an abandoned Shiva temple (a place mentioned in the Shiv Puran) in the village of Garudeshwar, which was a forest. This temple and a small hut were the only two structures for kilometers. For 21 years, they had no running water or electricity. They bathed in the river and carried water from it for other uses. The nearest village was a 3-hour journey if you could catch only the bus after crossing the river. Their food for all these years was moong (lentil), bhakhri (rolled flat bread), and ghee (clarified butter). Their day would start at 3 am with morning japas (reciting certain words or sounds for concentration) and end at 9.00 pm. 

Recollecting those days, Dada would always say he never knew when day came and night set in; there was no sense of boredom or need to break the silence or do something else. There was a constant state of awareness that permeated day and night, and many years. It has been 60 years of personal cultivation and service in this lifetime. This cannot be followed by a previous lifetime of such cultivation, I guess!! From birth until he was 7 years old, he would take the ashes from the mud cooking stove, apply them all over his body, and sit quietly. He did not talk for the first 7 years of his life,e and my great-grandmother accepted that as a matter of fact and let him be. She felt this was some conditioning from his past life he is still carrying,g and did not want to disturb him by interrupting in any way. 

My mother’s childhood and growing-up years were spent here. This place had a strong influence on her spiritual life. I feel privileged to share that lineage. I have always come here in the past but could never connect the dots, my attraction to the river and old Shiva temples, all of it is part of this shared experience that comes from the lineage. Our forefathers have stayed and meditated for many generations on the bank of this river. 

The realization is that it is foolish to think this journey is ‘my own’. It’s the fruits of their cultivation, and we are surely at the receiving end of it. It’s their blessings that have given us this opportunity to connect with nature inside and out. We surely know that we are being held each day by them.  

Dada shared that he once wanted to do the Narmada Parikrama, but his spiritual teacher asked him to sit in one place and cultivate. And, so he says, ‘while my feet are in one place, my prayers are reaching the universe.’ We felt a mother's love in his presence. It not only healed our physical pain but also touched many parts of our hearts. While he sat with us, we wondered if we were interrupting his daily practice. To this, he said, ‘If this conversation is going to bring more peace to your heart, then this is my practice and worship to God.’ 

As per the “rule,” a pilgrim can stay in one place for 3 nights, but when someone requests you to stay with such tenderness and love, you can’t deny. Today would be our last evening with him. This space, people, their experience, and conversations have helped deepen our intention and allowed us to think more deeply about personal practices that can ground us and help us be more equanimous. 

Om tat sat. Narmade har. 

Day 11: Garudeshwar (Nardeshwar)

Serving the server

We started our walk early in the morning after saying goodbye to the cook who had warmly welcomed us the night before at Kuberbhandari. We got the opportunity to sleep in Annapurna (the temple's kitchen), where, with a sweet smile, he serves hundreds of people every day. 

We had two options this morning: either take the highway or the muddy way. We chose the latter. The morning was cold and silent. And the rising sun was spreading its hue gently in the sky. 

After walking for about 10 km, we came to Moraya village, where we met Batuk Maharaj, the monk, who welcomed us for lunch. While chatting with him, we found out that he was from Madhya Pradesh. I asked him what brought him here, and he shared that while he was doing his parikram, he saw that in this particular 20-km stretch, there was no one serving the pilgrims. So, after he finished his parikrama, he came here and started serving pilgrims. 

We asked him if the villagers were supportive, and he said not really, but with the grace of the mother (referring to the river), things keep flowing. And he has been serving with the same faith for the last 10 years. He cooks, cleans, and hosts every single day. 

Today, we took the opportunity to serve the server by making not-so-perfect rotis (flat wheat bread) for the pilgrims who were to walk in. While we were rolling out rotis, we felt a whole lot of emotions, like a little irritation when the dough was a little too soft, some tiredness from the walk, and some discomfort from the different kitchen setting. 

But what shifted our minds was thinking about these hosts who keep serving anyone who walks in with such ease. We were even reminded of what Ganga Ma (an elder at Brahma Vidya Mandir) had shared: she said that anything done with unconditional love and without expectations will touch the other person's heart. 

Just a couple of minutes later, we were walking through his home as if it were ours, and the kitchen felt like ours. When a few other pilgrims joined us for lunch, the joy of sharing those rotis was so satisfying. This space gave us a little glimpse of how serving others just multiplies joy and divides pain. 

After taking our afternoon nap, we started walking towards our next destination. Narmade har. 

Day 8: Kuberbhandari to Tilakwada (Mani Nageshwar)

Loving Thy Neighbor

We were walking towards our ancestral village, and as always, I felt a lot of joy. The difference was that this time we were pilgrims. Some of our family was there to receive us. 

While we were entertained at my cousin's newly built home, I heard an old lady asking about our whereabouts. Later, I discovered that she was our neighbor staying next door. Over the next 24 hours, we heard different people respond to her in a high-pitched, rude tone and try to ignore her. Later, I discovered that the new home where we were staying once belonged to her. All her life, she has stayed alone, and her extended family takes care of her basic needs. Her home looked shabby and dark. Her thoughts are a little repetitive and random. She never steps out of her house. Maybe that is why people called her mad. I wasn't sure if that was the case. 

In the evening, Swara and I thought of spending some time praying in silence. This is when Swara takes the neighbor along. I definitely had resistance as I was looking for some quiet time. But her intention changed my mind. One reason definitely was to bring her out of the four walls b, ut the subtle intention was to reconnect her to life -,o the river, with the mother (referring to Nathe rmada riRiver Swara shared that we might not be able to do much, may be just share some maitri (loving kindness) and who knows grace might flow through her. 

All three of us sat in silence, watching the sun set, while we heard prayer bells ringing in temples. 

May we all become compassionate and wise  :)

Signing off from Sinor 

The Little Signs of Impermanence

As I wake up in the dark to set my foot out with the rising sun, I see Venus shining bright in the sky like a lighthouse at night. I see the changing shades of blue, pink, and orange at the horizon, bringing light and warmth to my body and soul.

Just a few steps more, and I see the terrain changing. Sometimes it is the tar roads running for miles together. Sometimes it is the sand that travels inside my shoes, sometimes it is the thorns that keep me aware, sometimes it is the cracks that remind me of resilience, sometimes it is the stones that remind me of myself, and sometimes it is the flowers that bring beauty in the wild.

As i hear my own footsteps I hear the voices from far away. And there are times when the noise in my head overpowers them all.

The times I climb uphill, I know there is a way down. Paths are made by walking, so let me walk this path. As I meet new pilgrims, I see myself in them; sometimes it brings wonder, and sometimes an ego boost. Stars start to settle; we tried to find our little home. Each day the roof changes, each day a new host. At times there are few walls, at times a little window, at times the cold wind requests us to sleep close.

As I get comfortable with all that I got today, tomorrow is standing just a few feet away. As I get onto hold something, impermanence knocks on the door as my destiny.

My Father

I have known this man walking in front of me for the last 30 years. I call him Columbus because he loves studying maps and exploring this big world on his 25-year-old bike.

He is hardworking and a silent worker. When I think of him, the glimpse that I get of him is doing something with his hand. He mends hearts wherever he goes by mending any machine that’s not working. For him,m no work is too small to do. The virtue he holds speaks more than his words. He gets uncomfortable when given credit. He is a simple man with minimum needs. Being truthful is something that I have learned from him. This gentleman was introduced to me as my father.

Today, he joined us for almost 20 km walking nonstop and with the enthusiasm of a child. What a blessing it was to have him with us. If there are two things that I can ask for, it would be forgiveness and gratitude. Forgiveness for countless mistakes and misbehavior. And gratitude for holding all those behaviors with love.

The warmth, love and blessings with which he has sent his two daughters, it must have taken lot of courage. There are endless occasions when I have missed saying thank you to him. With this note, I just want to share my gratitude for having him as our co-pilgrim in this lifetime.

Our first meal

After our family's traditional farewell, we walked from Nilakanteshwar Mahadev toward Nikora. People kept guiding us and shared blessings wherever our feet halted.

Around 11, I felt a sensation in my stomach, and this sensation is the oldest association we have, I feel: I was hungry. While trying to watch my thoughts, I saw this huge banyan tree beside me, in a small, not-so-organized space. As soon as I reached in front of that place, I had a feeling we might get food there.

Additionally, this massive tree was a great invitation for some rest. I paused there for a while, smiled at the gift of nature, and started walking ahead. As I looked back to see where my co-pilgrim was, I saw her in the same spot where I had been a few minutes ago, and across the road, I saw a monk waving his hand to call me. And I smiled, thinking of how when we are connected to ourselves and nature, we tune into these invitations.

I realized that even after receiving the invitation, part of me resisted it because my ego didn't ask or receive. I thank him for inviting us. What a blessing it was to have lunch with him. Most of the time, we were silent, and the only thing he kept saying was, " Khao ma deti hai tum khao. (Eat, Mother Narmada, gives, so just eat).

He later shared that, while he cooks for himself, he does so in a way that 2-3 more people can also eat. It was interesting to see that, in about an hour, so many people walked in. Some people came to receive the Prasad like we did; some came to give him food or other material so that he could serve more people, and all the time, he kept saying it was all Mother Narmada doing it. It was beautiful to witness such faith - that an urban mind might look at the faith in the river, but actually the faith to walk in the unknown and the heart to surrender.

While sitting near his chulha (handmade mud stove), I could see the whole dance of giving and receiving happening here, where he was so effortlessly juggling all that he was receiving into effortless giving without taking any credit. After serving us food, he prepared beds for us to rest and started making tea for those walking behind us. S, there is no concept of pausing or taking a break.

While we were on leave, he said, "On your way, you will find many places to stay and many people with various experiences; just take what will make your heart happy."

"Just keep the faith, tension nai hai ( do not feel tensed) Narmade har" were his last words to us.

Inception of our pilgrimage

Two weeks ago, a passage Preparing For The Extraordinary: An Essential Practice was read out at Awakin Circle. It made me think of all those extraordinary incidents that have led to who I am at this very moment.  In a few days, my sister and I will be embarking on a walking pilgrimage circumventing the River Narmada.

Many people asked what inspired us to do this.  When I think of it, my very first association with the river Narmada was because of my grandfather and his forefathers, who chose to stay on the banks of the Narmada.

As children, we spent our summer breaks there with my cousins, eating mangoes, swimming in the river, sleeping under the open sky at night, gazing at the stars and constellations.  The huge banyan tree that you might see in the picture used to be our second home. We would climb the tree, play around it, and swing on the roots coming down from its branches.

Besides that, the huge tree is an old Shiva temple.   always felt that this place was my second home. As a child, I used to go into the temple, clean a little, and observe the oil lamp burning in the dark.  Something that has constantly stayed with me over the years is the stillness and peace I have felt in these old, rustic temples.   remember telling my mother that when I grow old, I will spend my last years in a similar temple on the banks of the Narmada.  nd I still feel the same. His intention,n I feel,l is now manifesting in our walking pilgrimage.   feel grateful to my grandfather and his lineage for choosing this place as their home, which became my home too:)

Talking about Rev, which is another name for Narmada, I feel her as a living entity, not a river.  around her, I feel like I'm with my own mother.  While growing up, every time I visited her, I kept telling her I would come back and stay with you someday.  ere I come:) Someone asked me if I was worried, and I said not at all. Oh, mothers, who don't have others’ homes?  meldon'th melt'sh and love melt it all.   Surely, she knows she is going to take care of us with her deepest compassion.

And as I grew up a little more, I heard about pilgrimages taken by a few friends with the intention of finding God, good in others.   got an opportunity to spend some time with these people, and I realized that they are like you and me, but they definitely took an extraordinary path to serve the world with their ordinary ways of being. Their journey has gently intersected with mine in different ways, ys and I feel them walking ahead of me in this pilgrimage. Their presence gives me the strength and courage to walk the path ahead.

With all the happy stories, I feel equally grateful to all those people who walked into my life with sandpaper and helped round my edges. I hurt that my heart felt the rejection that Mego saw as a blessing in disguise. I saw beauty in being vulnerable. I  showed myself the depths of my resilience and the tenderness of my heart. Gateful to the U-turns, dead ends, and certain crossroads that brought me to the right destination.   Those people who have walked into my life have woven a thread into this intention, and they would be walking with me on this pilgrimage.

As I close this note, I am reminded of this poem by Rev.Heng Sur, who wrote on his bowing pilgrimage:

"Being brittle and hard is easy;

    It takes courage to be kind.

Being stingy and selfish comes naturally to the weak;

    It takes strength to be compassionate.

Holding on to the self is not wisdom;

    It takes faith to let go.

Doubts and fear are greed for benefit;

    It takes giving to be happy."

Blessings

As an adult, I used to think to myself, "What would sustain my life?" Will it be money, material o rmy university degre? After checking out all of them, I can easily conclude that my life is fuelled by heartfelt blessings.

As we began preparing for our journey, we saw blessings in various forms from around the world. At a logistical level, except for our clothes, there is not a single thing we had to go and buy. Gradually, the spectrum of blessings became subtler and more nuanced. It started pouring in the form of prayers and silence.

There are no accidents, says Master Shifu, and my bumping into a few Buddhist monks at Gandhi Ashram wasn’t a coincidence either. I had been holding this intention for some months to say prayers at Prarthana Bhumi (Prayer Ground in Sabarmati Ashram, where Gandhiji prayed every morning and evening). I landed there absolutely unplanned a couple of days before the pilgrimage. Just as we finished our prayer, a friend came along with a few nuns and monks. We all sat in a circle, said our prayers, and when they heard about the pilgrimage, they offered blessings.

And these kids that you see here are our local Santa, beaming joy all the time. Their biggest gift is the spark in their eyes, the contentment in their hearts, and the curiosity in their minds. They are like a family now, and our doors are always open for them. As part of our farewell, all the kids wrote beautiful letters for us, sharing their prayers and wishes. A lot of their prayers were like, “Didi, do not pick up a fight with anyone. Take care of your health. Do not walk too fast. Cover your ears, chest, and legs from harsh winter winds.” Every piece of advice from our little friends was bang on.

And this picture is from my workplace. It is a shelter home for women at risk, and my work is to create healing spaces for them and to somehow create a common, interactive space between them and the officials.

The day I was leaving for parikrama, all of them got together and prayed for both of us to have a peaceful journey in the coming month. It takes a big heart for the vulnerable self to pray for the other, nd their prayers showed me the power of love. With all the hugs and warm wishes, they did not let me go without giving me puri and kheer, which were part of their lunch.

These are just a few stories. The blessings that we are being showered with make me feel like the meteor shower on a dark night. It feels as if each stone, each tree, the falling leaves, and the wind are blessing us on the path we have chosen to walk.