At noon, I waited on the concrete ledge of the flowerbed,
under one of the big trees of the ashram. I did not know if I was more nervous
for him to show up or not to show up. Yet he did not make me dwell on that uncomforting
thought, as he punctually appeared through the gates. He was wearing his big
red jacket and the cap he had designed, with the rock-climber logo. Wearing
that, and being so blond, with eyes so piercingly blue, he looked like an
American. We sat for a few minutes in the sun and he soothed me with his
authentic cheerfulness. Then we went inside and had lunch that we served for ourselves
on the metallic trays.
I was surprised he had accepted my invitation t0 come far
from the touristic area to have lunch with me at the Indian equivalent to a
monastery. The previous day, when we met, he had asked me to see me again and that
had been the invitation I had come up with. I thought that if he really wanted to see
me, he would come. And I was not too sure he would, and I did not realize how
much I wanted him to do so until I had been waiting under the tree.
The day before had been one of the best of my life. I had
finished the yoga training and I was wandering around Rishikesh with a rudraksha
mala around my neck, a kumkuma mark on my forehead, and a huge smile. While my
classmates did some shopping I was just trying to take in the beautiful town
before I had to leave in a couple of days. Everything was so beautiful: the
crafts, the jewels, the animals strolling on the narrow roads, the little kids
wearing eyeliner, the happy sadhus who owned nothing… And then I heard “Would
you like a free massage?” I walked towards him and his lovely smile. He told me
he was Spanish, so we switched to our most comfortable language. He had just
finished his massage course and was looking for people to practice on. We
chatted for a while and I kept on walking. Later in the afternoon, while I was
having lemon tea with Krystle at the German Bakery, which was up a hill, I saw
him down the rocky stairs, just by the Laxman Bridge. I called him and he came
to sit with us for just a few minutes, because he had to meet someone. We
exchanged only a few life views and he told me “Me gusta como piensas”. Then he
gave me a big smile and went back down the big steps and I shouted “What is
your name?”
“Nico”
There is no need of
phones in Rishikesh. When you want to meet someone you just start walking and,
sooner or later, you bump into him. In the evening, Nico found me at a
jeweler store and I asked him to join me and my classmates for dinner. We
crossed the road and climbed the slender metal ladder to Krishna. Krishna was a
covered rooftop in front of the Ganges that served one of the most delicious
foods I have ever had. Despite his basic English skills, Nico talked to
everyone in the group. He was lovely and everyone liked him. As the sun fell
the air turned very cold and I surrendered more and more to Nico’s charm. He
sat by my side, on the pillows on the floor, and occasionally touched my leg or
arm as he talked to me. He had such a healthy spirit, the company of which I
had been craving for the last months. Being there, it was difficult to remember
why I had been so unhappy before my trip to India.
When we said goodbye that night, Nico asked me to see me
again. And I came up with the invitation to have lunch at the Dayananda Ashram,
which was far, difficult to find, and it was an ashram, not a beautiful
restaurant… It was a challenge. And Nico took it.
After lunch, on that second day with him, we walked along
the Ganges, on the concrete promenade, towards the more touristic area. A few
kids came to sell carnations for the Ganges puja to us and Nico talked to them,
and gave them little foam hearts and smiley faces he carried with him. They
loved him and stopped their begging.
We crossed Rama Bridge and walked among tourists, sadhus,
cows, kids and motorcycles. We went back to the German Bakery and had tea
there. Our conversation would never stop. Nico told me about his town, near
Barcelona, his flat, his plants that some lady was taking care of while he
traveled for three months in India, the corporate job he had been laid off
from, his former partner, his rock-climbing passion, his dreams. I loved his
life and everything he talked about because his passion was palpable and contagious.
I liked his Catalonian accent. I felt at ease with him. I was happy we were
sharing that special and very brief time. We walked again to the main road of
little stores and stopped by a vendor that I already knew. Nico and I observed
all his wonderful items and tried his singing bowls. The sun started to fall
and it was time to say goodbye. I wanted to have my last dinner in Rishikesh
with Krystle in the ashram. We were leaving in the afternoon towards Jaipur the
following day. Nico was going to climb in Hampi. He asked me if I wanted to have
his phone number but the truth was that I had lost my phone at the Phuket
airport and his phone had been stolen in New Delhi. He was planning on going to
Krabi next, which was at only a two hour boat ride from my home in Phuket, but
I did not want to make plans then. I just walked away, fast before it became
dark, along the river.
The next day, I woke up thinking of Nico. I asked Krystle to
walk to the downtown and, surely enough, we bumped into him as he was going to
a big market close to the ashram with his friend, who wanted to buy something
there. We talked for a little moment and Krystle amusedly whispered to me “He likes
you!” We continued walking in opposite ways,
while I only wished that there was more time with Nico.
Krystle and I returned to the ashram and, full of sadness
said goodbye to the swamis and to the jade-colored holy river. The old man at
the Gayatri store, which we called Starbucks, called a rickshaw for us. We
managed to fit our bags and yoga mats in the rickety vehicle and started our
journey to the bus stop. On our way there, I saw Nico and his friend, walking
towards the ashram on the dusty road. I screamed so much that the rickshaw
driver stopped in bewilderment. Nico was coming to say goodbye and we would
have missed him if we had left a few minutes earlier. I managed to grab a card
with my email address on it and handed it to him. I said to him “Find me in Thailand”
and he said he would write. He blew a kiss and the rickshaw stared again, bouncing
on the uneven road and I saw Nico through the dust, getting farther and farther
from my life.
Dayananda Ashram
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