Shiva and Buddha

Two holy cities, Rishikesh and McLeod Ganj, one a Hindu spiritual centre, the other Little Tibet. The two are a 15 hour bumpy bus-ride apart, and could not be more different from each-other. River ceremonies by night, kite runners, thalis, noisy vikrams, colourful gods, chai tea breaks, dog food-filled backpacks, pretty school girls, the holy Ganges and the laundry on her banks, side-of-the-road Sanskrit lessons, festivals every second day, yoga-stretched pains, the power of sages and Shiva. Then came the Dalai Lama's residence. With it, delicate momo's, mantra beads and prayer wheels, lemon ginger tea, constant reminders for a free Tibet, the lotus flower, Himalayan walks with friendly fed dogs, the start of environmental awareness, new friends who I'm sure I've met sometime somewhere before, His Holiness's smiling face, sidewalk-sold bokchoy, meditation classes, mountain cafes and waterfalls, inspiring volunteers and heartbreaking stories of displacement. Every day that passes in India makes me want to stay, laugh, explore, pause, climb, savour, give, and be mindful. Two places with so much faith and loss and struggles for freedom, but not deprived.

Firecrackers and fruit salad

Moving my travels from one continent to the next, Europe to Asia, has been a leap I'm struggling to describe at this early, virgin stage. "Intense" lingers for the meantime when trying to pinpoint India. Intensity of the incense, the spices, the sewers, the litter, the thin stray animals, the stares, the tumour-causing car horns, the insistent beggars, the holy cow pats, the quick-buck crooks, the dirt, the poverty. Then you slowly notice more. Then come the curious smiles, the temples, the handshakes, the saris, the autographs (yes, a group of school children asked for my autograph), the festivals, the flower garlands, the blessings, the third eye on foreheads, the vegetarian cuisine, the hand-painted trucks, the fruit vendors, the ohm, the wish-wrapped trees, the tooth-rotting sweets, the warm colours, the tradition, the loveliness. The immediacy of life and death each day. The observation that all is one and the fire of each blessing sent along the Ganges river is a lesson to notice how rich, pure and bright the light of India is. Especially during Diwali. So I'm looking and learning as I go, humility through observation.