Beautiful Bhag Su

Some kind of change has occurred in me over the last few days. Of course it's been influenced by the Himalayan aftermath, the book I'm reading ('Yogini - discovering the goddess within' by Shambhavi Chopra, a title with potential cheese factor but actually a beautiful account of one woman's journey with spirit), and also this beautiful land of Bhag Su.

I've been rising pretty late - 9ish - after waking early at around 5.30/6 and drifting back into dreams. The last two days since I've recovered from my illness I've been doing my own yoga practise which has been beautiful actually. So, after my morning asanas and a wee spot of solo room dancing, I take to the streets of Bhag Su, ready to explore the hills.

After breakfast in a typically stoned Shiva Moon cafe (the album they have been playing six times a day in every touristic place ever since my first visit in 2004, and probably since before that even...) I wander up the hill with the vague aim of finding my old guesthouse of 5 years ago, seeing whether or not Madhu still lived there, and then walking to Dharam Kot and checking out the Tushita meditation centre there.

As I meander along, a small and humble white stone temple catches my eye and I tentatively ask a man washing dishes in the accompanying restaurant whether or not I can visit it and take a picture. He obliges and I enter, instantly feeling a deep gentle mountain peace there. I can see similarly small white stone temples across the Bhagsu valley - all beautiful and humble, my favourite kinds. I don't linger long however, as a soft rain has begun to fall - a daily occurrence here in the mountains which I love. So, I take shelter in this empty cafe, which I recognise as a place I used to frequent five years ago.

Some things are better left unedited. I believe that this is one of them. Here is what came from my journal of the time as I sip my first masala chai of the day.

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Nature is overwhelmingly beautiful.

Thunder sounds in the distance, rain teases the tin roof of Sahil's famous halva cafe, the stones and greenery of the valley unbelievably alive.

I have no desire to party with the early morning Upper Bhagsu stoners, but today I will take pleasure in the same beauties we all climb these stone steps for.

This rain cleanses my being - I'm going out in it! (and I do...)

There are two dogs, one on either side of me, perhaps rivalling for my attention. The black one is the healthier choice, although I eventually pat the mangy one too, knowing the tap to wash my hands is close and will give me another chance to dash out in the rain for a while. At one stage I have a hand on each of the dogs heads and the mangy one is LOVING it - closing his eyes, leaning into my touch and blissing out. The black one licks my arm in thanks, although I'd prefer he didn't, regardless of how clean he looks.

This masala chai is gooood... lots of Kala mirch (black pepper) at the bottom. Oh yeah!

Shee-ite the rain is pelting down now. I almost don't want to read my book it's so beautiful! Amazing! And I ask for someone to come and share this moment with me...

The rain makes me cry, so I pull my shawl over my head for privacy and find a massive rock in the distance to focus on, like the one I found from my hotel balcony in Maneri two weeks ago - a rock in the midst of the Bhagirathi river, steady and stoic as the waters thrashed against it. I imagined this rock to be my mind, unflinching as all the thoughts cascaded overtop of it. Today I try to keep my focus on this Himachal stone as I wonder what to do with my big overflowing heart. SO, I plant my feet on the earth, or the concrete atop of the mountain, hold my pounamu in my left hand (I'm connecting so much more to this stone lately!) and breath deeply in, and out.

I don't want the rain to finish, and as it ebbs, flows, dips and swells, thunder rumbles reassuringly, soothingly in the distance.

I COULD WRITE FOR DAYS!

In the valley, three brightly coloured salwar kameezs are kept dry under umbrellas as ladies in hot pink, aqua marine and orange tread carefully down the hill in the wet. Another white stone temple sits silently waiting for them, infused with nature's wise, peaceful power.

My eyes are ANCIENT with longing for somebody to share this with.

And then, just as soon as it begun, the rain stops. Immediately! It shimmers again for a few seconds. Is sucked into the soil. It stops fully, and I can hear the drum circle occurring a little lower in the valley - a world I feel so far away from right now but know I'll frequent again, at the right time.

A stranger has sat down near me - the answer to my prayer? And I am suddenly shy.

The wind speaks, and I try to clear my mind as the words come in.


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What follows is a lovely, easy conversation with an Englishman whom I briefly referred to in my last entry about India and its contradictions. As well as this, we discuss teaching, theatre, the story of the Indian dogs (the black one is called Kalu and proves himself to be the king of the hill, barking at any goats or rival dogs that dare to walk past his perch, and the mangy looking one is actually both arthritic and epileptic - a sick wee creature hungry for a gentle human touch). I drink another masala chai and am informed that the paratha here is delicious if I'm so taken on my next visit. Which I will try, along with the halva, as there is no semolina in the valley today.

About an hour after the rain has stopped, I leave the blissful cafe and walk down the hill, which in turn leads me to Madhu's house and there she is! Sitting on the porch with her new sister-in-law. She doesn't remember me at first, although as soon as I mention my friend Abbey's name, who I shared a room with for a few weeks here all those years ago, she lights up - she always did love Abbey... soon she is pulling out the photos Abbey sent her all those years ago and calling out for her papa to come and greet me - I have good memories of him teaching me Hindi back then, and of his father smoking pipe after pipe downstairs. Turns out that grandpapa is still there, smoking pipes downstairs, although out on a wood gathering mission (??) at the moment. I guess I'll see the plume rising from his pipe next time I visit...

Back then, Madhu told us she was destined for spinsterhood, being the only girl of the family and bereft of a mother. Someone needed to look after papa-ji, so it was her duty to help arrange her brothers' marriages and then run the household, which she was doing so well even back then as a 16 year old! BUT it turns out that things have changed - elder brother has a wife now - Santosh, who I meet, a beautiful young girl who dutifully pulls her sari over her head when Papa-ji emerges. Because she now lives in her husband's father's father's home she is now technically capable of running the household, and papa tells me excitedly that Madhu is to be married in less than a monthm wondering aloud if I will be around for it! At present my visa finishes on my birthday, five days before the wedding and a plan quickly forms in my head to contact the relevant embassy and get an extension as I would dearly love to be part of this family's celebration. I take a photo of them for Abbey and promise to return with a photo of Abbey's young boy in New Zealand, less than a year old still.

Madhu hasn't changed a bit, although she tells me she is much fatter now. Not that I really notice - her nature is just as sweet and she obviously deeply loves her nephew Ahshit, the light of everybody's life who is passed around for kisses and cuddles as I drink the sweet milky chai they offer me. After another rain storm it is time to go down the mountain, perhaps to finally get to Dharamkot this time?

Seems not. As I walk down the hill I see Jesse, a Californian guitarist I first met at Sasson's chai shop in Pushkar, again in Rishikesh a week later and who has been travelling India on his Enfield for a few months now. And I meet my first Kiwi in a long long time, something of an outlaw in these parts, having not returned to New Zealand since 1970 and living in India for much of that time. Interesting dude, with henna red dreadlocks swept up sadhu style atop of whitish-grey undergrowth. It's so nice to meet another Kiwi, and as we both hail from small towns we swap our stories of growing up as weirdos in straight places. We sit for chai and Johnny joins us, a very interesting English dude studying Apache shamanism and soon to be running a workshop on such magical subjects which I'm keen to know more about.

Soon Jesse returns with his guitar and we play a Bonnie Raitt tune - 'Angel From Montgomery', a very unusual first song to play together! We go on to sing 'The Passenger', 'Man Who Sold the World', 'Stir it Up', 'Little Wing', 'Knocking on Heaven's Door (a mixture of the Bob and Axl versions) and attempt 'Walk on the Wild Side' although neither of us knows the words. Dinner arrives at once and we are silent until the Shiva Moon album comes on again - my second listen in one day! Typical of these parts, but I don't mind; Prem Joshua's tunes are still beautiful all these years later, and so... FITTING for a traveller scene that I distinctively remember not thinking I was destined for earlier today. But OH how things change, and how I'm loving it - a beautiful looking Israeli dude is getting his hair dreadlocked by the guy who sells malas outside the restaurant and the flute player that joined us for a few numbers is sitting contentedly and crossleggedly on the floor. Our Malai Kofta, Palak Paneer, Israeli salad and butter naan are delicious, and I think to myself how nice it is to share a meal with others when usually I breakfast alone, reading and writing and musing on life. Well, today I've been living it and it feels GOOD!

Although I love both worlds - walking the solo path and enjoying the splashes of community that come when I am most open to them. Today has been rich with both, and I'm SO grateful. My body aches but I document it all as usual, wondering where these words will lead me and what tomorrow will hold. Besides the early morning yoga class I commit myself to with Jesse's teacher.

I'm exhausted, and want to make it down the BhagSu hill before too long so I'll sign off now and tread carefully in my slippery flip-flops back to the haven of my guesthouse. BLESSINGS xxx