I was 12 or 13 years old when I went to Badrinath with my mother, sister and grandfather (mother's father). It was supposed to be a pilgrimage to all the Prayags and ultimately to Badrinath.I don't know why we went except to "see God" in the temples - that was what my grandfather told us. It was his dream to go on that pilgrimage and I guess we tagged along.
Today, 30 years later, around the same time of the year that we were there, the news on all the TV channels speaks of the flash floods and disaster that struck the very same route that we took. We did not go to Kedarnath then because it was a very tedious trip and we had to trek on foot then, unlike now. An eerie feeling creeps into me today, as I relive those moments when we made the trip to the very same places.
After 30 years, I still remember vividly today, the bus journey that we took from Delhi to Haridwar, Rishikesh, Rudraprayag, Devaprayag, Karnaprayag, Joshimath and Badrinath.I don't remember how long the trip was, but I remember how we lived together as a family - the whole bus-load of people and the driver, for all those days - from start to finish. There was a huge family from Karnataka and they occupied most of the bus.
There was a cook and his helper who travelled with us with vegetables, provisions, vessels, stove etc. At every point in the journey, the bus would stop by the side of a road, and these people would cook and serve us piping hot food in that cold! We were the only ones who could speak fluent Hindi with the driver and so became the ones to communicate everything to him! That was a privilege for my sister and me! We made good friends with the driver, took photos with him (I still have that one somewhere!) and wrote letters to him too, even after we came back to Madras. When we were not eating, the only thing I could remember doing was listening to loud devotional music in Hindi, that he blasted all through the journey!
They were expert drivers and probably the only ones who could navigate the narrow, winding roads on the magnificent Himalayas. I remember how once, for some reason, he had to make a 360 degree turn of the bus on that road, and managed to do it with so much ease, while all our hearts were in our mouths! Down below, in the deep ravine, was the fiery Ganga flowing furiously.....while on the other side were steep mountains that loomed large and ominously over us and our miniscule vehicle.
The Himalayas were absolutely breathtaking and awe-inspiring. For a young girl like me, the size and intensity of the mountains left me stunned and bewitched.....feelings that overrode the fear...I still remember that first sight of the huge mountains and the first feeling I felt! It was first love! Ever since that trip, I have felt a very deep connection with the Himalayas, that is both sacred and special. The feeling I have when I am within the folds of those mountains is much like how a little child would feel to go back and cuddle in her mother's lap. Warm. Secure. Safe. Special. Loved. Bliss. A womb connection.
Every place on the way had a special story that my grandfather told us. He would make us sit with folded hands, on the steps to the river or the confluence at each place and pour three buckets of freezing cold water from the river, on our heads. This happened at all the Prayags - Devaprayag, Rudraprayag, and Karnaprayag. I remember how peaceful the Ganga was at Rishikesh, and how for the first time in my life, I had a bath in a river.....sitting on some boulders and looking at my reflection in the crystal clear waters. I remember with how much force the Ganga flowed in Haridwar, where it came down from the hills.....and how we had to hold on to steel chains to even stand in the waters. I remember how the Mandakini, Alaknanda and Bhagirathy tumbled down the slopes and rushed on.....I remember standing on the Hanuman Jhoola and looking down into the fast-flowing river without fear...
Our last stop in the pilgrimage was Badrinath, where we stayed overnight in a small ashram like place. There was no power, and it was cold, and we cuddled up together under woollen blankets in the darkness. Early next morning, we went to the temple. There was a bit of a queue and we had to cross a small bridge. On the other side, was a hot sulphur spring, where my grandfather again insisted that we should bathe, and so we did! And boy, was it refreshing! I remember how my sister and I were so surprised and watched with wonder as to how there was natural hot water in that freezing cold! And then, when we had changed, we all went into the Badrinath temple. Strangely, I have no memory of how the idol there looked. I remember the priest and how he gave us some sweet prasad of nuts and sugar and how we then went back.
I also remember how the driver told us about the beautiful Valley of Flowers that was close by that we could trek to, and I kept that piece of information safe somewhere in my head, dreaming of going back there someday.
That trip sent me on a quest to find and discover myself in many ways. I started thinking more about God and nature, fear, death, religion, customs and rituals, and much more. To me, that was the beginning, not end, of my pilgrimage.
But today, when I hear and see all the news about the tragedy, the only questions that keep coming up in my mind are these - why do we go on a pilgrimage? why do we seek something outside of us? why do we think that something exists outside of us? Is this Nature's way of telling us loud and clear, that we should think about what we are doing and why, a little more deeply? Do we have to go to some other place to discover that God exists? Isn't the real pilgrimage, the one within?
So perhaps until we realise that, we will roam here and there looking for that "something", just like the musk deer in the forest.
" We are all searching, roaming the forest like the musk deer, seeking the pleasures without. When we recognize what we are really looking for and begin searching for the lost love within, at that point, the real journey of human life begins."
You can read the full article from which this quote was taken, here:
http://www.radhanathswami.com/2012/04/in-search-of-a-lost-love-lessons-from-the-musk-deer/
Today, 30 years later, around the same time of the year that we were there, the news on all the TV channels speaks of the flash floods and disaster that struck the very same route that we took. We did not go to Kedarnath then because it was a very tedious trip and we had to trek on foot then, unlike now. An eerie feeling creeps into me today, as I relive those moments when we made the trip to the very same places.
After 30 years, I still remember vividly today, the bus journey that we took from Delhi to Haridwar, Rishikesh, Rudraprayag, Devaprayag, Karnaprayag, Joshimath and Badrinath.I don't remember how long the trip was, but I remember how we lived together as a family - the whole bus-load of people and the driver, for all those days - from start to finish. There was a huge family from Karnataka and they occupied most of the bus.
There was a cook and his helper who travelled with us with vegetables, provisions, vessels, stove etc. At every point in the journey, the bus would stop by the side of a road, and these people would cook and serve us piping hot food in that cold! We were the only ones who could speak fluent Hindi with the driver and so became the ones to communicate everything to him! That was a privilege for my sister and me! We made good friends with the driver, took photos with him (I still have that one somewhere!) and wrote letters to him too, even after we came back to Madras. When we were not eating, the only thing I could remember doing was listening to loud devotional music in Hindi, that he blasted all through the journey!
They were expert drivers and probably the only ones who could navigate the narrow, winding roads on the magnificent Himalayas. I remember how once, for some reason, he had to make a 360 degree turn of the bus on that road, and managed to do it with so much ease, while all our hearts were in our mouths! Down below, in the deep ravine, was the fiery Ganga flowing furiously.....while on the other side were steep mountains that loomed large and ominously over us and our miniscule vehicle.
The Himalayas were absolutely breathtaking and awe-inspiring. For a young girl like me, the size and intensity of the mountains left me stunned and bewitched.....feelings that overrode the fear...I still remember that first sight of the huge mountains and the first feeling I felt! It was first love! Ever since that trip, I have felt a very deep connection with the Himalayas, that is both sacred and special. The feeling I have when I am within the folds of those mountains is much like how a little child would feel to go back and cuddle in her mother's lap. Warm. Secure. Safe. Special. Loved. Bliss. A womb connection.
Every place on the way had a special story that my grandfather told us. He would make us sit with folded hands, on the steps to the river or the confluence at each place and pour three buckets of freezing cold water from the river, on our heads. This happened at all the Prayags - Devaprayag, Rudraprayag, and Karnaprayag. I remember how peaceful the Ganga was at Rishikesh, and how for the first time in my life, I had a bath in a river.....sitting on some boulders and looking at my reflection in the crystal clear waters. I remember with how much force the Ganga flowed in Haridwar, where it came down from the hills.....and how we had to hold on to steel chains to even stand in the waters. I remember how the Mandakini, Alaknanda and Bhagirathy tumbled down the slopes and rushed on.....I remember standing on the Hanuman Jhoola and looking down into the fast-flowing river without fear...
Our last stop in the pilgrimage was Badrinath, where we stayed overnight in a small ashram like place. There was no power, and it was cold, and we cuddled up together under woollen blankets in the darkness. Early next morning, we went to the temple. There was a bit of a queue and we had to cross a small bridge. On the other side, was a hot sulphur spring, where my grandfather again insisted that we should bathe, and so we did! And boy, was it refreshing! I remember how my sister and I were so surprised and watched with wonder as to how there was natural hot water in that freezing cold! And then, when we had changed, we all went into the Badrinath temple. Strangely, I have no memory of how the idol there looked. I remember the priest and how he gave us some sweet prasad of nuts and sugar and how we then went back.
I also remember how the driver told us about the beautiful Valley of Flowers that was close by that we could trek to, and I kept that piece of information safe somewhere in my head, dreaming of going back there someday.
That trip sent me on a quest to find and discover myself in many ways. I started thinking more about God and nature, fear, death, religion, customs and rituals, and much more. To me, that was the beginning, not end, of my pilgrimage.
But today, when I hear and see all the news about the tragedy, the only questions that keep coming up in my mind are these - why do we go on a pilgrimage? why do we seek something outside of us? why do we think that something exists outside of us? Is this Nature's way of telling us loud and clear, that we should think about what we are doing and why, a little more deeply? Do we have to go to some other place to discover that God exists? Isn't the real pilgrimage, the one within?
So perhaps until we realise that, we will roam here and there looking for that "something", just like the musk deer in the forest.
" We are all searching, roaming the forest like the musk deer, seeking the pleasures without. When we recognize what we are really looking for and begin searching for the lost love within, at that point, the real journey of human life begins."
You can read the full article from which this quote was taken, here:
http://www.radhanathswami.com/2012/04/in-search-of-a-lost-love-lessons-from-the-musk-deer/
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