The Gift

Sometimes you have to take a trip outside yourself to return to that which is true inside you.

And the Universe, time and again has a way of doing this in the most unexpected of ways.

We were traveling in the Kumaoni regions of the Himalayas, on our way to the town of Kausani which is famous for the best views of the snow-covered peaks of these mountains. Of course, this was India, and this was a family trip, which inevitably led to lots of emotions running amok as is. With the windows rolled down and my head sticking out, I absorbed the breathtaking views and the fresh mountainous breeze, while my ipod played some sentimental old Kishore Kumar songs. Waves of sadness welled up inside me as I contemplated on the troubles of my recent past, and tears streamed secretly down my cheeks through my sunglass-covered eyes. The clouds resonated my inner world as they engulfed the majestic mountains and began to usurp the clear blue skies.  

In the town of Baijnath, en route to Kausani, my reverie was interrupted when our Tata Sumo parked a few meters away from the 800-year old Baijnath Temple, considered a special place as Lord Shiva and Parvati got married at the meeting of the rivers Gomti and Ganga here. Stumbling down some weary, gray stone steps and across a short antiquated bridge, we approached the entrance of the holy site. 

Just then, a sudden downpour jolted all the visitors, including us, scouring for shelter - some huddled under trees, and some under the stone steeples. The clouds poured out their anguish in a torrent, and the winds whooshed through the trees. Lords Shiva, Ganesh, Surya and Brahma gazed along with us upon the dramatic antics of Mother Nature, until she eventually decided to retreat, having tired of her purifying activities. 

With the rain gods quelled, we continued on with our visit, now swaddled by a cool zephyr, and the sublime perfume of the cleansed earth. Finally we could admire our ancient heritage, and pay respects to Parvati Devi, who had remained a quiet, sturdy presence throughout the weathery moods of the day. 

Strolling through the temple grounds, I began to click snaps of the solemn steeples and stones that quietly spake of hundreds of years of history endured. "The things these stones must have witnessed!" I thought. Suddenly, a couple of school kids appeared in my line of focus and excitedly summoned me to photograph them as well. While I complied, a few more joined in, and before I knew it, a whole troupe of them were in the picture, posing for me, a stranger, in all their mischievous innocence. I was laughing now, as the children, in their grey-red sweater uniforms, with bright red tilaks on their foreheads, contorted their faces and bodies in multitudinous attitudes for the camera. Towards the end of the photoshoot, I jumped in the frame myself for a group selfie. Needless to say, my sadness melted away as I goofed off with these exuberant youngsters.

Tears one moment, laughter the next. Oh Universe, you really have a special way of bringing people out of their self-absorption.

Waving goodbye to my new-found friends, I exited the premises, my shoulders unburdened, and heart lightened. And then, I noticed an elderly impoverished man crouched up against the stone cold exterior of the temple walls, asking for alms. My heart went out to him immediately, tears once again welled up, and I rummaged in my purse to give him whatever cash I had, and bowed down to him with a Namaste*.

I don't think I may have noticed him had I still been dwelling in the preoccupations of my mind. 

It was as if the gift the kids had given me with their smiles inside the temple walls was paid forward to the elderly Kaka-ji outside the temple walls. 

It was the Gift of Connection - to Self, and the Other. The Gift of Love, even for strangers. It was, above all, the Gift of Presence, of being in the beautiful Now. Because, that is all there is. 

*Namaste - Indian greeting with hands joined together, saying the Highest in me honors the Highest in you.