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?
