Sikkim

Sikkim is a state that is not technically part of the group of states that form India’s Northeast, but since it is also way out here (we are working on it, map coming soon!) this region is often referred to as Sikkim and the Northeast. In fact, Sikkim’s neighbour to the west is Nepal, to the north and Northeast it is Tibet and China, and to the Southeast it is Bhutan. Its link to India is from the South, where it is bordered by the state of West Bengal. There is no airport so the only way to get here is to fly or take the train into northern West Bengal, as we did, and then drive up. Just as we crossed the border from Bengal we were greeted by patches of red, purple, fuccia, and pink splattered throughout the side of the road during our windy 5 hour drive, with poinsettas growing in the wild everywhere.

It is a mountainous state and the air is crisp and clean. It was an independent kingdom until 1975, and has long been considered one of the last Himalayan Shangri Las. Mountain valleys which plunge from spiky Himalayan peaks are lushly forested with pine and rhododendron trees. Near the Sikkim-Nepal border, and visible from Gangtok and many other towns and points around the state, is Khangchendzonga (8598m), the world’s third highest mountain.

The main language in Sikkim is… Nepali! The “original” Sikkimese migrated here from Assam and Myanmar/Burma, followed by those fleeing religious strife in Tibet. The Nyingmapa form of Mahayana Buddhism arrived to Sikkim with three refugee Tibetan lamas who bumped into each other at Yuksom, just north of Pelling. There, in 1641, they crowned Phuntsog Namgyal as first chogyal (king) of Sikkim. At their most powerful, the chogyals’ rule included eastern Nepal, upper Bengal and Darjeeling. However, much territory was lost during wars with Bhutan and Nepal, and throughout the 19th century large numbers of Hindu Nepali migrants arrived, eventually forming the majority of Sikkim’s current population.

The state government has earned a reputation as the most environmentally aware in India, including fining people who pollute steams (unheard of!). It promotes organic farming and foods even. It is noticeably much cleaner here in comparison to the rest of India, and plastic bags are totally banned (no, really, they are, not like the supposed ban in Himachal Pradesh). The official state animal: the red panda! No smoking signs can be found throughout restaurants, and you hardly see people smoking cigarettes or biddies (Indian cigarettes). Drivers hardly honk when they drive, and when they do honk they do so once and lightly… very civilized.

China has never officially recognized India’s claim to Sikkim, so to maintain pro-Delhi sentiments, the Indian central government has made Sikkim a tax-free zone, and has poured tons of money into road building, electricity, water supplies and local industry… including liquor production. As a result Sikkim is surprisingly affluent by Himalayan standards, and most Indian standards really, and unfortunately it also has the highest alcoholism rate in the country. As we were entering Gangtok we noticed a large building complex brightly and boldly marked as a rehabilitation centre. And when we went out walking the first day we could not get over how many liquor stores we passed, at least one for every block it seemed. And that was only outdone by the name brand stores we saw: Puma, United Colours of Benetton, Tommy Hilfiger, Addidas, etc. Granted, being this close to China, some of the defected items or imitations must make it to these shelves, maybe, but still, these are authentic stores from these labels! Hell, Delhi got its first Puma store just a couple of years ago. We walked along Mahatma Gandhi Marg, which 2 years ago was converted into a pedestrian only walk way and is wider then most roads in Delhi (I exaggerate but it was obviously a double lane two way road before). There are benches and flower pots that run along the middle and stores, restaurants, etc… along the sides. It’s soooo lovely!!!

And guess what we found here? POSTCARDS!!! Beautiful, big, postcards. And what else did we find? Celebrations full force for World AIDS Day, December 1st. Apparently they started about 2 or 3 years ago. There was a booth at MG Marg, with a wall to sign, red ribbons being given out, informational pamphlets for distribution, and the schedule of events for Dec. 1st including a walk through town finishing with a rock concert! (Rock is big in the Northeast) Young men and women were all over it and as we walked along we crossed paths with many proudly wearing their red ribbons. When we got back to our hotel for a snack, the manager showed me his two red ribbons and bunch of pamphlets. I was very impressed!

One big BUT… it’s dam cold at night here! It’s chilly during the day, unless you are walking or staring at the sun, but at night… BBBBRRRRR. And I don’t fare well in the cold, I so don’t. I was in an incubator as a baby after being born because my body temperature was too low and I really don’t think it ever adjusted fully. On the other hand, I guess this is good practice for our time in Nepal, next week (what was I thinking when I agreed to that?). When we left Gangtok and headed 4 hours West to stay at Pelling for a few days, we started to wear our gloves even during the day! And Nisarga wore his hat at all times… to sleep, to go to the bathroom, throughout the day! I even bought a hat with fleece lining. Did I mention BBRRRRRR? Yes! BBBBRRRRRR. Our noses were permanently red and frozen.

The weather, and the travel I suppose, took its toll on our health a bit. While my diarrhoea stopped once I started eating meat (I always had faith pork and chicken would help not hurt me!), my runny nose, cough and phlegm filled chest is on its second week. Nisarga went through almost 2 days of fasting, but two days later he was up for a couple of hours vomiting and shitting everything out. During our three days in Pelling I stuck to one meal per day consisting of chicken noodle soup and cheese momos (dumplings), and after his long night in the bathroom Nisarga stuck to porridge, butter toast and bananas.

Another first during this trip was Nisarga experiencing an earthquake. Not a grand scale one, but the unmistaken feeling of the earth shaking beneath your feet and moving along with it everything around you was definitely there. Having experienced these soft earthquakes in Lima and Delhi (when the epicentre was Kashmir!) I knew right away but he was confused and baffled. By the time we got to the door and opened it, it was all over, and he asked the people from the hotel about it and they said it was normal. Tremors continued, another 3 or 4, throughout the day… sending us in a state of alarm and tension each time. I suppose since the Himalayas are still growing… maybe that was just them stretching a bit. A bit nerve wrecking however given that these constructions don’t seem so dependable, and that the Northeast (although not Sikkim) is known for its civil unrest and bombs and blasts here and there. Aagggg.

for all our pictures from sikkim, go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/nisargaanddeepa/Sikkim#

A Northeast Thanksgiving

After one and a half days of travel we finally made it to Gangtok, Sikkim’s capital. As in we took an autorickshaw to the town from the Satra, from there a shared jeep ride to the ferry, then the ferry from Majuli island to the mainland (the experience of which was much more peaceful the second time around), then a shared jeep ride to the town, then an all day bus ride back to Guwahati. The bus broke down before reaching the final destination, although not too far, so we all disembarked in the dark (it was only 6pm), and started walking. We got on a local bus which took us where we could take another local bus to the bus station. We had a quick dinner and go on the overnight train to northern West Bengal. This was the first time that Nisarga was travelling third class sleeper non-AC, and my first time in 4 years, so basically we were under the impression we’d get sheets and a pillow… but nope! Everyone around us started unpacking their bedspreads and whatnot and … well… we added a few layers on and were grateful that we were exhausted so that we were bound to get some sleep at least. Nisarga was smart enough to bring along earplugs, because the orchestra of snoring was incredible!!! My ipod earphones were the best I could come up with. From the train station we took a jeep share 5 hours north into Gangtok, and finally a taxi into the city and a hotel where we could set our weary bones for a couple of nights. (In the pictures, that's Nisarga on the top bunk with his beige hat on.)

Actually, we dropped off our bags, washed our faces and brushed our teeth, and headed out for Thanksgiving lunch! Although this was the calendar day after Thanksgiving (the day set aside to give thanks for what you have, an official holiday in the US, based on the fairytale story that the pilgrims sat and broke bread on that day with the Native Americans and everyone lived happily ever after together – instead of the Native Americans all being killed off or put into conservation camps… but that’s another blog entry on the efforts to create a false common “American” identity when everyone’s roots are from somewhere else), we were starving and I wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving with the only family I’ve got by my side: Nisarga! So we stumbled into a really nice restaurant with a marvellous view of the highest Himalayan peak in India, ordered yummy food and said what we were grateful for! I ordered pork. Then we went to a café and had chocolate balls, sitting next to a Christmas tree listening to Western Music. It was such a treat!!! In the US, since the family tends to get together during Thanksgiving, it is also often the time the Christmas tree goes up and is decorated. The welcome platoon of poinsettas along the road and the giving thanks and now the café setting that could be anywhere in the US or Europe… it really feels like Christmas and that the end of the year is coming. I don’t think I have felt that in over 5 years, since the last time I was in the US at this time. With perfect timing, Nisarga’s mom and dad both called while we were at the café… as if to share in the family moment with us (actually they were worried about us due to the Bombay terrorist attacks but still, great timing!).

That was our Sikkim Thanksgiving! Thank you!!!

we are fine!!

we just got back to civilization and heard about the bombings. we have called our mothers on skype, and now letting you all know that all is well on our side. we are going to read now about what the hell happened there. thank you all who wrote and asked if we are ok. lots of love!!

Majuli Island

If my memory serves me right this is the first time I am riding on local busses in India. I realized on this trip just how cushioned my travel has been up until now. Sure I have been to rural places, very rural, but I have gone for work and I have been met there by locals working in the area and they have ensured I get from A to B comfortably and without any effort on my part. And when I have travelled with friends or family (I’ve only travelled in India alone twice) we have either gone to one place and either flew or took the train in and out, or we have hired a car for several days and explored different towns or the countryside that way. And the car is not only more convenient, it acts as a protective bubble of sorts; it is like a safety blanket. You don’t have to ride along with strangers, locals, end up dusty or sweaty unless you want to. You stop wherever you want, leave whenever you want. You inevitably distance yourself.

So here we were… mingling! We rode through seemingly endless tea plantations, and gold, yellow and emerald rice fields. Hazy blue mountains across the horizon. It’s really quite beautiful out here. Just over two hours later we were in a large town with traffic jams and pollution. 45 auto-rickshaw minutes later and we were at the “pier”, a windswept sandbank from where the over-over-over-crowded ferries for Majuli Island depart. My biggest concern… we don’t have enough toilet paper to last us until we get back to Guwahati… .the last time I noticed seeing toilet paper! Now I may have lived in India for 5 years, and I may have become Indianized in some ways… but my butt is still Western. Ok, time to ration the TP (toilet paper)! But my nose is still running profusely from my cold. Aaaauuuuuuuuuggggggg

We board the ferry but decide we want to ride on the roof instead, as we see some people standing up there, in the open air. Yes, bright idea… at the time. We see a few boxes up there and some cargo and a few guys playing cards... No problem. We whip out the yoga mat and place our backpacks so that we can comfortably lean against them. Within 30 minutes however, the roof is full with cargo and 6 motorcycles, not to mention the dozens of men staring at us like “what the hell are you doing up here?” Clearly this is not the regular seating area for white folk, once in the blue moon when they actually come this way, and definitely not where a lady should be. We laugh and enjoy the breeze and sunrays that manage to poke through the spaces between the parcels and boxes and bags filled with chilli.

Majuli island is situated in the Brahmaputra River, and it is considered the world’s largest river island. It is filled with rice fields and fish traps in water meadows, and the local tribe is called the “Missing” people. Majuli is also home to 22 ancient satras, monasteries of neo-Vaishnavism and centres of learning, art and culture. This faith was formulated by 15th Century Assamese philosopher Sankardev, and it eschews the caste system and idol worship, and focuses on Vishnu as God especially in his Krishna incarnation. Most worship is expressed through dance and music, and dramatic plays from the Bhagavad Gita and Krishna’s life are performed.

We decide to stay at one of the satras, and pick the nearest one (of the two mentioned in our travel bible, The Lonely Planet) from where we are dropped off after our ferry ride. And who do we meet as we are walking in? Another Polack!!! Nisarga has only met one other Polish person since February in India, a woman at Osho, and on this river island in this satra guest house, tucked away in the far north east corner of this subcontinent, he runs into the second. Antek tells us about the festivals and the way of life and his experiences over the past 2 weeks staying here. He is hoping to have enough good pictures after his stay at Majuli for some kind of photo exhibit.

So according to him, the satra whose guest house we are staying at is a smaller satra, with only about 100 monks living there. They do not cut their hair after a certain age (but they can shave), although at other satras monks do cut their hair. They wear white loungies (like a wrap) in the form of pants always, even young monks who go to school. People come and leave their sons to be raised here in this faith, like at Buddhist monasteries. Unlike Buddhist monasteries, the kids go to regular school with the village kids, and they are given extra lessons on philosophy, theology, dance and music at the satra. As adults they can pursue worldly livelihoods, like running a book shop, a printing press, or whatever they wish. But they can not eat outside the satra, they must bathe each and every time before eating, they can not eat anything that is not prepared by themselves or within the satra (unless it’s natural like fruit), and they should not touch or be touched by others, accept anything touched by others or give something directly to others (but if this happens they should bathe). If as adults they decide to leave the satra because they want to marry and have families, or for any other reason, they are free to do so. There is even one satra where married monks live with their families. There is a certain femininity about many of the satra monks, a lightness, gentleness and gracefulness. Even among the kids.

We woke up just after 5 with the birds and other creatures of nature eager to have us join them in welcoming in the rising sun. Mist covered the fields and the Missing people were beginning their day. We walked around the village surrounding the satra guest house for about an hour. It was soothing and lovely. However, Nisarga was feeling unwell, weak and with a stomach ache. I had diarrhoea. All that food exploration over the past 4 days took its toll on our stomachs I suppose. So we returned for herbal tea and further sleep. It was a mostly lazy day. Walking in the village again in the middle of the day, loudly followed from a safe distance by young school kids. Walking into the nearest town for a light late lunch, closely followed by dust. Now I have to say, I am absolutely amazed at the far reach of the dish TV in Assam! It is absolutely incredible. In what would otherwise be considered bamboo shacks on stilts you find Dish TV outside!

Also, one quick point about the satra guest house we are staying in. Its basic but clean and safe and just fine. And there is no running water. To flush, wash, or do anything that involves water, we pump water out of the ground into plastic buckets which have turned a shade of orangey brown, from the colour of the water coming up though the red earth below. I have stayed without out running water before, in Bolivia and Peru, but not so often and not in a long time I must admit. (We do have electricity however, hence these blog entries, thankfully.) As Nisarga puts it, the water smells like it has every possible mineral in it. At the guest house, there is a couple from Denmark, Antek, and us.

Unfortunately we will not be able to go to Arunachal Pradesh or Nagaland, the two states we had settled on for our second week up here in the Northeast, because foreigners need a government permit to enter these states and the process time takes between 1-3 weeks we are told. We accept our reality (and the festivals we will miss as a result, which is why this trip was planned for now), vow to return one day with said permits already processed, and several rolls of toilet paper, and opt to head over to Sikkim for the second week instead since we can get the permits necessary at the border when we cross it (so we are told anyway).

One extremely interesting thing, at least to us, about Assam: No Postcards Anywhere! Not in the capital, not at Kaziranga, and certainly not at Majuli. And those are the three highlights of the state. So we can safely say there is a state in India where you can not get postcards! Now you know we are really way out there!!! Not even those taken in the 70s or 80s that are faded. None.

So off we go again… in reverse: an autorickshaw to the near by town at 630am, a shared jeep to the “pier”, the ferry from Majuli island to the mainland (an experience which was much more peaceful this time), a shared ride to the traffic jammed and polluted town of Jorgat, and an all day bus ride back to Guwahati. There were no seats available on the only direct bus going to Guwahati so we sat up front just behind the driver… which was actually perfect for seeing the beauty of the country side we past. In fact, as we were passing Kaziranga, the driver pointed to our right and there was a rhino!!! In plain sight, very visible on the low grass, and not far off at all! Amazing. What a lovely “see you next time” from Kaziranga. Apparently goats are a real traffic problem; during this 8 hour ride I saw several just dash out of nowhere and cross the road and our poor driver trying not to hit them. As a side note, how great it was to see Nisarga in action, getting us on that bus and situated… I was very impressed!

Kaziranga

It’s fitting I suppose, that the same person who told me about the vipassana center in Igatpuri, where I had my first silent sitting retreat, is also the first and only person to have mentioned to me Kaziranga! That was 3 years ago last month, and I have wanted to come here ever since. But the northeast always seemed so far, in need of a chunk of time in order to explore, and intimidating due to the government permits necessary for foreigners to travel around some parts of this region. Still, Rajesh’s interest for this place stayed with me.

And so here we are… I’ve managed to drag Nisarga all the way up here to a place in the world he had never considered visiting or even heard of before. And we are somewhere really foreign to us in comparison to what we are used to. We have never seen any pictures from here, no one I know except for Rajesh has ever been here, and the travel guide is rather lean when it comes to this region. The planner in me feels soooo unprepared… the controlling self in me feels starved.

After a 5 hour bus ride we reach Kaziranga, at 430pm just before it gets dark. A wide path with tea plantations stretching out on either side welcomes us. We settle into a lodge with a huge beautiful tree out front, the last room on the east corner of the furthest annex … perfect! This place looks like it used to be something built and used by the British about a century ago. There is a little stream that runs through the forest just beyond our room. The stars are shining bright. We’re happy. Nisarga is in love with the vibrations of this place, and I’m excited to finally be living this.

Kaziranga is a UNESCO World Heritage site and it covers an area of 430 sq.km comprising of forest, elephant grass, marshes and shallow pools. It is home to over two thirds of the world’s one-horned rhinos. There are about 1,800 or so rhinos at Khaziranga, up from just 200 in 1904.

We went for an elephant ride safari in the Kaziranga National Park (KNP). This was a big day… Nisarga’s first elephant ride ever. Instead of taking a car we walked the 3km to the KNP entrance gate. We headed out just after 530am. There was a thick layer of mist covering everything. The birds on alarm duty announcing the start of yet another day, the sun slowly creeping up behind the bamboo, and the villagers beginning their morning routines. There are 5 elephants on this ride and ours is the one with the gunman escort… who has a good eye for spotting rhinos.

One hour and 2,500 rupees later (just over US$50) we have seen 4 rhinos, wild boar, buffalo, so many deer, pelicans and storks, among other things. And it was so effortless, the animals in such abundance and so close, I felt like I was in an interactive open air zoo or something like that. Incredible! Best safari outside of Africa I’ve been on. We relaxed in the middle of the day and went back for an afternoon jeep safari. Obviously we saw animals from a further distance, but on this trip we got to appreciate the different landscapes of the park. And a lovely and romantic sunset!

In the morning we are greeted by the sun rising through our windows. We go out to the veranda and have herbal tea. We spend time doing yoga, breathing exercises, sun bathing, and reading. Then it’s time to say goodbye to this peaceful and tranquil place. Nisarga doesn’t want to go, and we consider staying but the bus comes just in time and we are on our way again.

We agree to return to Kaziranga sometime before we leave India, for at least a week, and just be. We take with us beautiful memories and pictures, and a bunch of bananas which are delightfully sweet and have seeds like small stones or pebbles throughout them (kinda freaky!).

Nisarga also tried his first beetle nut pan here… we won’t be repeating that experience though (beetle nut, a green leaf, some white gunk which serves as the stimulant, some burning and a whole bunch of numbness of the mouth and tongue after chewing and sucking on this highly addictive concoction which turns your teeth and mouth red and results in endless amounts of red saliva to be spat out).

PS: there are some lovely pix from kaziranga on the assam picassa album.

Guwahati

Twenty hours after we set off from Osho-Nisarga we reached Guwahati, the capital of Assam (a state in the northeast part of India – a map will be posted soon). This involved an overnight 12 hour bus ride from Dharamsala to Delhi, and a 3 hour flight from Delhi north east to Guwahati.

We expected the weather to be about the same or colder then what we experienced in Dharamsala but to our pleasant surprise it is warm here! In fact we landed to a wonderful 28C, total t-shirt weather. The evenings get cooler, but a light sweater or just a long-sleeve is fine. We were sooo relieved!!! As we quickly shed a few layers in the cab ride into town, we noticed that the countryside was filled with palm and banana trees, sprinkled with tall bamboo, and was thoroughly lush and green with a strong red coloured earth. Beautiful and inviting. However, we are so far east that the sun keeps a noticeably different schedule. It is pitch dark by 5pm and the sun starts rising just after 515am.

Guwahati as a town is actually on the uglier side; concrete buildings with lots of open sewer canals. But it provided a wonderful first for me… the opportunity to walk around for hours! In the 5 years I have lived in India I have never spent hours walking around, going everywhere I aimed to go on foot and not getting in any kind of transport all day. Even the flyovers had sidewalks – we went over 2 of them! It is interesting to see how many goods here are carried on people’s shoulder using a balance kind of system, as in a bamboo stick across the shoulder and two baskets hung on either side with the goods… I haven’t seen that in other parts of India, reminds me of Southeast Asia in fact. As do the vegetable markets on the sides of the flyovers, and the human drawn wheeled carriages carrying passengers short distances.

Guwahati is situated on the southern bank of the Brahmaputra river, and when we approached the bank we found earth that looked like a cracked desert of grey clay. Nisarga was convinced he was going to sink through.

As we walked we stopped here and there and tried something being sold or prepared by the roadside, like coconut, starfruit, cane juice, or a piece of fried river fish. I loved watching Nisarga curiously try all kinds of street food things, the same man with whom 6-months ago I was drinking wine and eating cheese, and sunbathing on the beaches of Nice. Bless him!

Guwahati also provided Nisarga with something he absolutely loves: fresh fruit juice! A guy on the corner of the road, there from 6am until 10pm, with a few fruits and a manual juicer; no water or sugar added, just pure juice. Nisarga was in heaven. He swore he could live here just for this. We went to him in the morning and the evening, filling up our one litre water bottles each time. 60 rupees to fill up a one-litre bottle, that’s less than 1 euro. It really was heavenly!!!

Another interesting thing about being here is that we did not see another foreign looking face except when we went for dinner. Walking around out and about all day, and we didn’t bump into another foreign tourist. And since most tourists not travelling with package tours use the same travel bible, the lonely planet travel guide, we tend to end up at the same places – especially when there are just a few restaurants listed/ recommended for the whole city.

This is the first time I am somewhere in India I have not been before, in well over a year. And it is also the first time that Nisarga and I are travelling around in India together (so far we have been based in Mcleodganj, and we travelled around Spain together but not in India). And it is the first time I will be travelling around a state and region without the comfort of a hired car and driver; this has always been the case when I travelled for work, with my family when they came to visit, and with friends when we have travelled in a group. Needless to say my first two days in Guwahati I was a bit tense; my reaction to the unknown and to the unsure. But by the time we got our bus tickets to Kaziranga, and our next bottle of fresh orange, pineapple and pomegranate juice, I was feeling much more at ease.

for all our pictures from assam, go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/nisargaanddeepa/Assam#

Home-free!!!

I’m not going to be so dramatic as to say that now I’m homeless, I’m just home-free! What I would not have even considered 7 months ago is now my reality. I moved out of my home. No, I am not moving into a different apartment, I am not moving to any other place. I will continue to spend about 9 months in India and the summers in Europe, for the next two years, and then move onto SouthEast Asia (at least that’s the rough plan)… and have no base in the meantime.

It took 5 long solid days of not leaving the house (not even to go downstairs), lots of sorting, trashing, giving some things away, selling things, piles upon piles and more piles, and so much dust I might have permanently damaged my lungs. This included going through boxes (3 of them!) which had been shipped from NYC when I first moved to Delhi almost 5 years ago… and had never been opened! But it’s done! All my crap is packed and stored: 20 some boxes of books, decorations, dvds, cds, shoes, and papers; 7 luggage of clothes, purses, and accessories; and a bread maker, a glass and teakwood low table, and a mirror which was the first mosaic piece I ever made. Those are all my worldly belongings! (I travel light no?) And its all in my friend Anita’s mother’s basement! I will go from time to time, probably about 4 times per year, to change sets of clothes and shoes or whatever. And I suspect this will be their home (not mine), for the next 3 years… until I am ready to have a base again (ie: until I’m almost broke and need to get a job!).

And so yesterday a new chapter began for me. Delhi had been “home” to me since December 2003. Initially she was supposed to host me for just 2 years, that was the duration of the work contract I signed. And it took about 9 months for me to actually accept Delhi as home. I was miserable my first year, counting down the days until I would be able to leave, feeling like I was constantly drowning. My second year was better but I still felt like I was treading water, just staying afloat. By the end of my second year, when there was the possibility to extend my contract, I felt like I had made such a huge investment in terms of time and effort and it was finally paying off, why not stay a bit longer. My third year I was actually enjoying Delhi and India very much. And by the fourth year I had decided to quit my job and not spend as much time in Delhi but definitely stay in India. Still, this city which I fought against, hated, and bitched about so much earlier on, had become my safety net. My security blanket.

So now, as I am finishing my 5^th year in India, it was time to let go of that too… and in many ways honour what Mother India has tried to teach me. To accept change, to try to flow a bit more and fight a little less, to love more and cling less. As I sat outside on the terrace around sunset the day before leaving I looked around me peacefully, in the process of letting go of the emotional investment I have put into this oasis and the subsequent attachment. The plants had grown so much since I last saw them before the monsoon, new buds were sprouting, and they were all doing just fine without me. The cow bells which were hung up just over half a year ago were rusted and their red rope faded. The birds flew above in packs heading home to their respective trees the way they always do at that hour of the day. The teeny weeny but numerous ant army went marching on from who knows where or to. In that moment, I could clearly see the law of nature that Mother India has consistently shown me, within me and all around me: birth/ life/ new beginnings, routine/ patterns/ habits, change, decay… cycles. And so it is with me, as I enter this phase of this cycle. According to my astrological chart, during this 7 year cycle of my life (lasting another 2 years, until I’m 35) I am meant to push my boundaries and break my pattern habits. Cheers to that!

And as I do that space is freed up for something different, change, even new beginnings. Two days before the movers came I got a call from my father, which in itself is shocking; we spent the first 3 years I was living in India on absolute non-speaking terms… this was probably the 2^nd time he has called since we started speaking again. He was in a great mood, and we had a pleasant conversation, even laughing together. That same day I spoke to my brother and he had great news: he got a job after several months of not having one and he has his ticket to Japan where he is going to ask for his lady’s hand in marriage! Mom is planning her 65th birthday celebration, her and a bunch of girlfriends salsa dancing the night away, and she's dam excited to claim social security and medicare benefits now that she is officially going to be a senior citizen. After the movers came I made a mad dash for the bus and landed up in Mcleodganj the next morning, a day ahead of what Nisarga was expecting; he was so surprised! We talked, cuddled, had a bottle of Spanish wine (we had been saving from our summer trip) over a delicious lunch on the balcony, and slipped back into each others bodies, hearts and energies. Nisarga is in fact the source of inspiration for this new level of freedom I’m entering. My life is absolutely beautiful! It always has been and always is, I know, but right now I’m actually aware of it, I feel it, and I’m so grateful!!!

And I’m grateful to all my friends and family (and even friends of friends), throughout the world, who continue to open their homes and hearts to me. Thank you all for your support, and for reading this far.