The romance of pilgrimage

 

Me and my brother love going for Govardhan pilgrimage during winters. The weather is good and walking on naked feet for 22-24 kilometers is great for mind, body and soul. Every step you take, every breath you inhale, every word you chant in devotion to Radha mai takes you to a higher dimension of evolution.

We start in our small car early in the morning at four-o’-clock, park it at Sonipat, catch the 4:40 bus to Mathura, deboard at Govardhan chauraha, take another bus to the pilgrimage town 22 kilometers away, have tea and take breakfast of home-cooked parathas prepared by our loving and kind elder sister, and start walking among the excited throng of devotees.

It’s relaxing to be part of a commonality, a generality, a healing collectivism of being Radha mata’s and Giriraj’s devotees. It melts the too heavily concentrated sense of individual identity wherein one’s own issues and problems feel too heavy and burdensome. No wonder one feels light as a part of this devotional herd. The people who would have otherwise sunk in the bog of loneliness feel light, connected to fellow humans, to a greater cause while walking on a pilgrimage with fellow devotees.  

The return journey is more exciting—changing buses, metro ride and finally a night train. It feels almost like an extension of the pilgrimage. It sometimes tests nerves but then gives very nice lessons in practicalities of life and the art of being realistic.

We try to go for the pilgrimage every weekend during the winters. This Saturday the bus to Mathura stands cancelled. The buses have been ordered to go and attend some political rally by the government.

We stand dejected. Just imagine getting up at three in the morning and then come rushing to take the bus to find it cancelled. But then we hear a conductor from a nearby booth harking a sweet invitation: ‘Hardwar-Hardwar-Hardwar!’

His words chill, thrill and trill in the chilly, foggy morning like an aesthetic waterfall.

The bus to Hardwar is ready to move. And so are we! We board the bus, reach Hardwar, take holy bath on the pious Har ki Paudi, ascend the little hill to have darshan of Mata Mansa Devi, enjoy the sweet-sour vibes of the narrow market street along the Ganges, take ride in the galloping spirituality of the pilgrimage town.

An exclusive experience: arresting, exquisite, strong and sumptuous. Just because we stayed open to faith, pilgrimage and joy.

We return at night with the same smile and satisfaction as we would have if we had gone to Mathura as planned.

A little cocktail revolution in the ordinary day of a commoner. This much all of us can manage.

Dear reader, always remember that sometimes mother existence has a different plan. We just need to be open to it. Many times, it turns out to be better than the one we had chalked out ourselves.