Spellbound

I've been meaning to write about my travels across Malwa for a few days now, but words continue to escape me. The mere thought of transferring to writing overwhelms. And at best, I am only able to pick out isolated fragments of the journey and put them forth. What I would dearly love to do is find the entire richness of this experience flow from within into writing, without a conscious attempt. It isn't impossible, but it certainly feels that way. I'll give it a first shot here, nevertheless.

Many, many seeds were planted last week, and watered duly by the monsoons, both literally and figuratively. From the moment I landed in Indore and until my departure from Bhopal, life bombarded me with lessons left, right and center. I could try doing a chronology of events, but there was nothing at all linear about last week. It is the rays of the sun I need to document. Perhaps a chapter for each one? In my second shot, perhaps. We'll start with the basics, here:

I was enthralled by the elements of this universe - the sun, the moon, the stars, the wind, and the rain. Also the earth - agricultural or not, wet or dry. And the trees, the leaves, the many animals we found ourselves in the company of.

The people. I've never found myself in the company of so many people, all so genuine, loving, thoughtful and wise. I can say that over and over again. I felt I understood. I felt understood.

The music was as moving as I'd imagined it to be, and as inspirational. No surprises there, just truckloads of fulfillment.

The 'physical rigor', as S put it - living life on very basic terms. It is an interesting inversely proportionate relationship. The more basic it gets, the more happiness it affords. And it got pretty basic.

As I've said to many, this journey felt like a dive into the depths of my soul. I may have been in alien surroundings, and yet I felt that there was a homecoming within. It is indeed in the villages that the heart of India lies... that's where I was, yes.

The things that had seemed little before suddenly grew a lot bigger. The reverse also happened. Time came to a standstill, and life slowed itself down almost to a halt. Thoughts ceased for a bit, and I was left without a frame of context. And peace found its place, in every step.

And as I close my eyes now, I see the smarak in the heavy monsoon downpour - as I soak in the rain, and the icy winds that bring news of the downpour, the morning walks with the rising sun, and across the wondrous landscape, the faces of those who know only to love and to serve, the limitless joy drawn from water alone, the moon and the stars we slept under every day, the strangers who became friends in no time at all, and the wisdom they shared so generously, the music that transcended all boundaries between hearts - then to my great surprise, the endless offerings of chai, the raindrops as they fell on the car windows, uncountable inspiring and instructive conversations, singing with gay abandon in the train to Bhopal, the 'cold drinks' that quenched many a thirst... and the smile that I carried all through the week, in my heart.