Sacred - The stories of Rishikesh

After lunch, Anish and I met outside of the dining hall. There had not been any discussion about it. It was an implicit invitation: we would go for a walk together.

It was the warmest time of the day, even when the sun was not all the way up –it never is in Rishikesh; there, the sun inexplicably rises and settles on one side of the sky, thus not traveling a whole semi-sphere. Nevertheless, following a frigid morning, the short time of warmth felt delicious. As every day, Anish was wearing a white cotton kurta and white pajama pants. I, of course, all in black.

Crossing the gates of the ashram was another world of wonder. The street dogs came to meet us, looking for love and cookies, while the huge bull, heavy on the pavement, remained unbothered. The old man at the Gayatri store, who served us dozens of teas and coffees, waived at us. We stepped on the dusty roads full of garbage and animal wastes, which did not smell. I peeked inside of the burning park and saw a couple of piles of burned logs, where they had cremated someone perhaps the previous evening. People of all ages wandered and the children that usually came to say “hello” and shake my hand watched us shyly.

As we approached the main road, the streets became busier with motorcyclists, candy stores, massage parlors and fruit carts. On the main road, which led to the Rama and Laxman walking bridges, stood a big and white Sikh temple. Anish invited me to explore it.

We had to take our shoes off –as when entering any building in India, really- and I, for being a woman, had to cover my head. For that purpose, a man at the door gave me a handkerchief. Anish helped me flatten it on my hair, as if I was his bride and he was helping me with my veil. Then we entered the cool sacred place and, for a few minutes, marveled at the immaculate interiors of alabaster and gold.

At the atrium, as we exited, two men gifted us with the temple offerings: yogurt drops and cake. They joyfully placed them on our bare hands, making them greasy with the ghee. I gave my cake crumbles to Anish, who accepted them happily and we walked down the steps of the temple on our bare feet, feeling the cold marble tiles.