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).

Where 1 + 1 > 2

At some point, I had thought to walk by myself. Not sure if it was out of arrogance or the thought of being self-sufficient. It was much later that I realized that the "ease with which I could walk, sleep, or simply be was because someone was looking out for me unconditionally. In the initial weeks of our pilgrimage, I could feel a hand coming to me every midnight just to check if I was safe after a tiresome day of walking.

There is a joke that my sister shares. She says, "For you, taking up this parikrama is like a love marriage, whereas for me, it is an arranged one. "For me, it was the love for the river and its credence, whereas for her, it was her unconditional love for me. She said yes to purely supporting my calling and discovering her love while being part of it. When I asked her what made her say 'yet' something like this, which wasn't on her bucket list ever, especially when it wasn't about walking for a day or two. It was a long-term commitment for which I personally spent almost 3 years preparing. With a smile, she says, "I have tried taking a few initiatives, where I have mostly failed to get support. I understood that if we put our ego aside, what matters at the end is saying a yes to anything good. It doesn't matter who is leading it. All of us can be co-creators for the greater good." 

"

In my 30 years, this is the first time we are doing almost everything together, be it washing clothes, preparing food, praying, attending nature's call, and most importantly, walking together for almost 9 hours a day. She says the joy is in doing "ordinary" things together, which makes the whole experience extraordinary.

"Any time I overlooked the strength of two. I would tell her, "Why do you need two people if the same task can be done by one person?" She gave me the analogy of an ant colony, where several ants do one task. The system is that if one fails, the second will move forward, and if the second fails, the third will take over. Here, efficiency might be lower, but resilience is high. 

When I see someone so selfless in front of me, it helps me see the selfish corners in me. Apart from

Having someone to listen, to share, to give a fresh perspective, to share jokes and laugh aloud, to massage my feet when in pain, to find strength in the last leg of our day...she gently holds my edges, giving one more chance to change, which definitely requires a lot of strength and love. 

I could have never soaked in the beauty of this pilgrimage if I were by myself. To briefly share about her sense of being/ philosophy/ practice, I am reminded of the African proverb which says, "If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."

"Deep, deep gratitude to have her as my co-pilgrim for life

Stitching my ego

I could see my toe from the small hole in my shoe, which was getting bigger and bigger day by day. I kept putting off the repair, and the day came when I had no choice but to do something about it. 

We asked a few people if there was a cobbler in the village, but there wasn’t. I thought of mending it myself, but I wasn’t sure I could manage. The person I asked looked at my shoe and said, "Let me try." I asked him if he had done it before, and he said not really. I row a boat, but this would be an opportunity for me to serve you. 

I was observing him, and the very first thing that struck me was the love with which he was doing it. A part of me felt embarrassed because I knew how dirty my shoe was, and he was holding it as if it were a bunch of flowers. While he was doing it, I felt some discomfort. The fear I had all this time of not knowing, versus the effort this man was putting into something he hadn’t done before in an effortless way. It’s amazing how in a village everyone knows everything. And how my “education” or my urban upbringing was inhibiting in doing something new. . 

As I kept observing my mind, I arrived at a thought that shook me. My mind made a discrimination and said that this is not my job. It is a lower job. I realized the root of this thought was the social conditioning I had grown up with. I couldn’t believe my own thoughts, and a part of me felt ashamed. The resistance to not doing it myself was not only the fear of taking on a new job, but also deep conditioning. I wanted to get up and give him water to wash his hands, but I couldn’t go beyond a courteous thank-you. 

I just kept sitting with these discomforting thoughts that evening. The neatness of each stitch reminded me of the lost opportunity to share my gratitude. After that day, every time I look at that patch on my shoe, it reminds me to practice humility. 

Grace

After walking a 200 km stretch through remote tribal villages and forest trails, we reached Amarkantak on March 4th, the auspicious day of Mahashivratri. Amarkantak is the mouth of the river from where it starts flowing towards the sea. It flows west, covering many thousands of kilometers, serving infinite beings with her love. 

This place marks half of our pilgrimage . While sitting at the Gurudwara in Amarkanth, the next day, tears kept flowing as we thought about the past three months of our journey. It is pure grace because of which we could walk a thousand kilometers, and it would be too selfish to say that “I” or “we” walked so far. It feels beyond my capacity. And the tears were of gratitude for the unknown yet known force that has led us here.

When I think of the web of grace that is constantly flowing by our side,e with my limited mind,d I know I am not being fair to the hard work of infinite beings,s including our lineages and nature,e which is constantly blessing us with abundance. The tears were even for the limitation of seeing beyond self to take ownership of something beyond the “I”. 

The prayer for the rest of our journey is to look beyond the “I”, be humble and grateful at each step in the lap of Mother Earth, Mother Nature,  and Mother Reva, and embrace the nature of a mother being always gentle, forgiving, giving, content,t and compassionate:)

When I Walk

When I walk, I see a line of ants crossing the path.

When I walk, I wonder about the symmetry that the butterflies carry.

When I walk, I see the wildflowers sprouting from the rocks smiling wide at me.

When I walk, I see the wild lizard camouflaging among the dry leaves.

When I walk, I breathe in the smell of the wet soil and the leaves.

When I walk, I relish the wild berries fallen on the ground.

When I walk,k I connect to the tree by touching the bark.
Sometimes I pause to count the number of rings on the trunk.

When I walk, I hear the songs of the winds.
Sometimes when I pause, the stillness in the silence helps me to connect and listen to my own breath.

When I walk, I listen to the splash of the tiny fish.
Sometimes, when I pause, I see the ripples in the water created by the wind.

When I walk, I know whether the Sun God is gentler to me than yesterday.
When I pause in the evening, I see it waving goodbye to me.

When I walk, I am able to see, hear, touch, and smell the natural world, which enables me to wonder, be, connect, and slow down.

- Writing from Dhuadhar in the midst of a forest trail. I hear Narmadaji flowing some 30 feet down, gushing and dancing in between the marble rocks.

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું .........

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , હું જોઉં છું કે કીડીઓ એક હરોળ માં કેવી મારા પથ માંથી પસાર થાય છે 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , ત્યારે મને પતંગિયા ની સપ્રમાણતા વિષ્મય પમાડે છે 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , હું જોઉં છું કે વનફૂલો પથ્થરો વચ્ચે થી કેવા મને સ્મિત આપી રહ્યા છે 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , હું જોઉં છું કે કાચિંડો કેવો પ્રકૃતિ સાથે એકરૂપ થઇ જાય છે 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , ત્યારે હું ભીની માટી અને પાંદળાઓ ની સુગંધને મારા માં ભરી લઉ છું 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , ભૂમિ પર પડેલા ફળો મને એક બાલ- સહજ આનંદ આપવી જાય છે 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , વૃક્ષો ના થડનો સ્પર્શ મને તેમની સાથે જોડે છે , કોઈ વાર હું ત્યાંજ રોકાઈ ને તેના વલયો ગણવા લાગુ છું 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , પવન ના ગીતો સાંભળું છું , અને કોઈ વાર હું આ નીરવ શાંતિ માં મારા જ શ્વાશ ને સાંભળતી હોઉં છું 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , ત્યારે આ ભાનુ કાલ કરતા કેવો સૌમ્ય લાગે છે અને સંધ્યાં જાણે મને અલવિદા કરતી હોય તેવું લાગે છે 

જયારે હું ચાલુ છું , ત્યારે આ પુરી સચરાચર સૃષ્ટિ ને મારામાં અનુભવી રહી છું અને જાણે એ તેની સોડ માં લઈને મને શાંત અને તેનામાં એકરૂપ કરી દે છે 

Translation by હિરેન ધૂળા

Rowing My Boat

While rowing my boat, what will keep me flowing and floating while being anchored in equanimity, love, and compassion.

Kindness Towards The Dead

While walking, we see many dead animals and birds lying on the road, mostly due to accidents. From the day we started walking, we would move them to the side and share prayers.

Yesterday, ay someone saw us moving a dog that was lying dead on the highway. He asked us why we do that. We did not have an answer then. One of the logics was to remove an obstacle for those who are driving. In retrospect, we realized that the first time we did this act was during our 30 days in an internship in 2014, when we were walking with a friend.

A bunch of us were walking along a canal when he saw a dead dog. He said, "Let's put a plastic bag on our hand and move him aside. We did it and shared our prayers. He added that every being has the right to be treated respectfully, even if dead. We think the seed was planted then. Since then, it has become involuntary. We don't yet know why we do this, but it feels satisfactory.

Sab Mein Narayan

Written by my co-pilgrim, Swara

This morning, as we left Saatdev village, a dog came running to us. I guess he figured out who the dog lover was and kept jumping on Trupti. He would keep playing with her dress and pulling it. In between, he would go and play with the buffalo until it got annoyed. Interestingly, he kept walking with us for a kilometer. 

With this playful morning, the chant that came to mind was: Hari Narayan... Hari Narayan..This prayer was introduced to me by a dear friend, who would replace the word "Hari" with a friend's name, like Trupti Narayan or Sheetal Narayan. It just points us towards seeing the divine in everything. 

In the tone of the playfulness of the morning, both Trupti and I started singing by taking the names of near and dear ones. And gradually it kept expanding: friends, family, teachers, neighbors, the do, the trees, and the birds.

And what happened next was amazing. There was a subtle encouragement we gave each other to say the names of people with whom we might have set some boundaries, and we saw the dance of sensation within us. Just observing it for sure was shifting something in us. And we continued sending love and prayers to everyone. What started as a playful chant ended in stillness and sharing metta.

Gratitude to the forest

Bowing in reverence to Lakkadkot Forest.

A few days ago, our shelter was a temple in the middle of a forest. From here, we had to walk about 20 km through an area without any human habitation. This was the first time I had walked in the middle of a forest, and I was in awe of the tall trees, streams of water, colorful birds, the setting sun, the wind, the rocks, and the twinkling stars.

While observing all of this, I felt I was a guest here. Guest to the age-old trees that have been standing here for decades, spreading their roots deep down while growing up high in the sky. Some of the roots were so large that we had to climb over them. There were many river beds that seemed to flow during monsoons and were dry in this season, and a few river streams that were still full of water. While putting our feet in those streams, we could see the fish dancing around our feet.

Every time we paused for a break, we could hear the wind, and at other times, we walked on a carpet of fallen leaves that were turning into the soil again. Dry leaves were happily falling down as if making space for the new ones to sprout in the spring. I could feel the presence of rocks that were helping me hold my feet. We kept hearing and seeing the sounds of a variety of birds. One of them was this big grey bird. We felt like his presence was that of an old, wise grandfather, still and silent.

Few animals had marked their presence by leaving footprints. We knew there were wild animals around. And I asked myself whether our presence was an interference for them as I walked through their paradise. But they made sure that we walked out safe.

A single unstable rock could have changed my experience, but all that came our way was taken care of by an invisible force. As we stepped out of the forest, we took a few moments to share our gratitude to Mother Nature for the uninterrupted, wholesome journey with her.

GPS vs NPS

I could relate so much to this week's Awakin passage. So instead of GPS, we have the NPS - Nature / Natural Positioning System. 

We rely on people and wilderness for direction. It allows us to connect with shepherds in the middle of the forest, a lone farmer plowing his field, or people from a nearby village. We are learning to recognize and name trees. The directions here are like: take a left after you find a banyan tree, walk in the direction of the rising Sun, and let the river always be on your right. 

There are times when there are no people for a couple of miles. What do we do then? There are flags. People who have walked before us put up these colorful cloth flags as signboards. We feel so grateful each time we see them in long stretches of forest. We look around for footprints when there are no signs. Sometimes animal excreta also gives up hope, and we feel we are not lost 😉😅. And sometimes we tune in with the birds and animals, and they show us the way. At nigh,t the light of the moon helps us find our way. 

Today, me and swara were chatting about how when we ask people in the forest for direction, they tell us to take the highway instead of the forest route. They tell us that we will definitely get lost. We were thinking: what is the use of having an iPhone, a GPS, or a Master's degree when we cannot understand the basic sounds and signs in nature, like bird calls, footprints, wind, and the list goes on? 

We are in Sita van (Valmiki ashram), the place where Sitaji gave birth to his two sons, Lav and Kush. For the past two days, we have been walking through a forest. And the forest will continue for a few weeks. 

Little Guiding Stars

Rohit with the little kid he is taking care of. 

When we reached Ram Mandir at Sulgav, we saw a teenage boy holding his grandmother's hand and gently leading her somewhere. He saw us entering the temple and quickly ran to get a plastic sheet for us to sit on and rest. He is then busy answering questions from other pilgrims. He makes quick runs to a nearby shop and gets things for pilgrims. He takes us to the place where lunch was being served. In between, he is also playing and taking care of another kid younger than him:)

His name is Rohit, and he is in class 7. Swara calls him and asks about the grandmother. He said she is blind and that she wanted to go to the temple, so he was just helping her out. We asked him, "How about serving all of us? Why do you do that?" He said, " You are doing something good. You are serving the river Narmada, and I am serving all of you.

This little tot was in his school uniform, so we inquired about the daily schedule. He said, "Before going to school at 10 am and after returning from school at 4 pm, I am at the temple. I will be late at school as the person who takes care of the temple and pilgrims has gone to the market. He gave me the charge of taking care of everything until he is back. I will tell my teacher the same thing"" :) As soon as the temple caregiver came, he took his school bag and ran off to school.

It was so amazing to see this kid tuning in to everything that was happening at the temple. We were struck by his gentleness, prompt response, mature conversation, and his inclination to serve with so much love.

In the evening, we met eight-year-old Shyam. Before responding to any of our questions,s he would

Shy, am my little teacherTake

Take these little pauses. We could sense his thoughtfulness and the genuine sharing. 

We were having dinner, and he was partly sitting with us and partly watching television. I was telling Swara that the food was a little spicy for me. 

Shya,m who was still looking at the screen,n told me as a matter of fact, " You eat what you get,t and some day if you don't get anything,g you just eat a packet of biscuits and sleep, that is how it is when you are on a pilgrimage." I did not expect anything like this coming from a kid, but yes, my youngest teacher was telling me to just go with the flow. 😊

Kumbhar :)

We were in Dhamnod village, where we met Bhagwan bhai. Bhagwan bhai is a potter. We watched him change a blob of clay into earthen pots.

Once the pot is off the wheel and just about to go into the kiln, the potter keeps one hand inside the pot for support and uses the other to tap the outer surface to strengthen it and give it shape.

Reminded me of this analogy about relationships: if the hand inside is that of love, the relationship can withstand many outer storms.

The round darts that you see in the picture are for the inner support, while the flat darts are for the tapping. Bhagwan bhai shared that the inner darts are always heavier than the outer darts. Looks like the weight of love should always be greater :)

On a sunny afternoon, when I am fetched a glass of cool water from a similar pot, I know the amount of love and labor that someone has put into it, with a lot of gentle tapping.

@Ghaths of Maheshwar.

Rang Hai :)

We were walking the 20th kilometer, our last stretch for that day. And we saw a beautiful dome in the middle of a few trees. 

The sun was about to set, and we still had to walk a few more hills, but I felt like walking inside the mosque. Thankfully, religious lines are not that strong in villages. I am happy with it; it has helped me connect. Few women were cooking inside the premises, and two children were running behind a puppy. Part of me was hesitant to go in, so I asked a gentleman if I could, and he showed me the way.

It was the tomb of a Sufi saint. As I bowed down, tears started rolling down my face. My heart felt deeply touched. I could feel warmth in that space; it felt like I was resting on a mother's lap.



From Kali Bawde: Madhya Pradesh

Antidote to Scarcity

When one is on a pilgrimage, there is uncertainty. In such a state, the mind looks for certainty and serves as the gatekeeper, raising red flags. On the other hand, those who have walked this path before tell us to just have faith, and we won't sleep hungry or without a roof.

One of the rules for a traditional pilgrimage is "ask nothing and refuse nothing," which reminds us of Brother David. This means one has to have faith in humanity and trust. Stepping into this way of being takes time, which results in hoarding. Hoarding onto food, extra bedding for cold, the usual route, and many other mind patterns. When we walk with all of this, we start to feel comfortable and secure in the first few days. Slowly, you start to feel the weight of all that, all that I kept storing for tomorrow.

In the first week, my mind went through so many mental calculations that I started feeling more tired of it than walking. There would be times when I wouldn't have shared my food. Finally,  we decided to just give it away. We started sharing it with children who came running to us, greeting Narmade Har. The smile they shared fuelled us, and gradually the weight in my mind and my bag started to lift. It is in the giving that we receive,e as Nipun bhai says.

The design of the universe is crazy. As we started giving, we started receiving. We would give in this village, and people would give us in the next village. When we walk past their homes, they invite us for tea. When we walk from their farms, they offer us groundnuts and sugarcane fresh from the harvest. The oldies who are sitting out in the sun bless us. When we reach anywhere at lunchtime, they offer us from their share. In the evening, when we reach a village, a bunch of them arrange for a safe place for us to sleep. Some offer us money to buy food,d and the offerings are endless.

Everywhere around us, we see abundant nature. Tall tregiving shade. Birds singing songs. Cranes on the river banks are taking their gentle flights. Small puppies are licking my toes. Dew drops shine like pearls as the early morning sun rays touch them. Squirrels running ahead of us. Butterflies are spreading their color across the green field. Bells of the evening prayer. Night lamps far away in a home help me connect with someone I don't know.

 

It's interesting how each day I walk to this new village, I sleep under a new roof, eat with new people, as things start to get a little comfortable, and it's time to move on:)

And as we walked, we were singing: "We have enough, we are grateful, share the blessings, bodhi-swaha, remembering Rev. Heng Sure."

This design has taught me to trust. There is a higher plan within a person

Transforming the M capital: Money to Math to Maitri

 At Nani Ambaji, a few children came to us asking for money. We didn't want to feed into the Money capital, so we engaged with them in conversation. The graph went from a little resistance to shyness to sharing. We had children from different classes, including a special child. Swara knew some of their curriculum, so after a few check-in questions, she told the kids she would be available for the next two hours and that they could come with their books if they had any doubts. And then in no time, the number game started. It was interesting to see how, in a few minutes, so many children joined in.

We had a few chocolates and a packet of pencils that we had received on our way to give forward to children going to school. Before leaving, ng we shared those little gifts and a lot of friendship.

Writing From Nani Ambaji