Emotions and Energy of India

A dodgy fan circulates thick, muggy air around our Ashram room, relieving us from our 7-am-sweat. Wedding cake-layered temples shine pink and orange through our window, their bells echoing in harmony with entrancing instrumental sitar music from nearby shops. This relaxing morning combination is frequently interrupted by horn blasts and rumbling engines of stampedes of irritating vehicles that dodge foot traffic down narrow roads. We can't bear the thought of sleeping until this late morning hour, as yogis young and old have been gathering in parks and on river banks since the sun rose at 4:30 am. They chant mantras calmly and form laugh circles; we can't resist joining.

A rusty bronze Vishnu doorknob greets our hands and graces us with good fortune with which to begin our day. We exit aimlessly, carried only by the wind at our backs that pushes us forward, deeper into the unknown of this wildly intense place. Traveling India in the way presents serendipitous opportunities otherwise left unexplored and opens the day to limitless possibilities.

Exploding emotions and energy bombard our senses as we step into the street. Our eyes dart between dozens of neon sarees that weave through parading cows, motos, rickshaws, jeeps, push cart vendors, and at times, Macack monkeys and tide-parting elephants. We join the dance, marching along with blind confidence to avoid being struck (or striking) the variety of moving objects all around us. As we walk through this mosaic, our glance strays from the dirty streets to face level, catching bright smiles and gleaming eyes of passersby. Then up to tall walls painted in red hindi writing (most likely advertisements that appear beautiful to the untrained eye), and finally to the brownish-blue sky.
We pass orange-robed holymen with long, dreaded beards and out stretched hands. "Namaste's" and "hello, sir's", taps on the shoulders and empty palms begging for a few rupees, all compete for attention in the hectic chaos. The curry smell wafting by our noses tempts us to order a bite to eat, but a spicy burp from the previous night's meal quickly changes our minds; the street fruit we indulged in on a hot afternoon has come back to haunt our stomachs.
The colorful congestion slowly transitions into serene natural beauty that exists on the banks of the soiled Ganges River. The life, love and God of Indian people. In a land so arid and hot, the flowing water allows for crops, which feed the millions who live along its shores, to grow. Morning baths clean and refresh the body and soul. People drink and fish, fresh-water dolphins play, trash and sewage is carried away to distant seas, new borns and dying loved ones are blessed with this sacred water, families traveling thousands of kilometers to collect a few liters in plastic jugs, bodies are cremated and poured into rushing currents, releasing the souls into the heavens.
As we sit with Ganga Gee running smoothly over our bare feet, we contemplate all we've experienced until now:

Crowds of Indian tourists gathering around us to pose for countless photos; dozens of languages echoing around us constantly; layers of oil and rust on tables and railings after years of sweaty palms; dinner-time greetings and jams with international instruments; skinny legs and naked children living on roadsides; warm smiles and intrigue from locals and foreigners; simple conversations in basic English; veggie heaven after many months in carnivorous Spain; grandfather-type laughter and excitement filling a hot, crowded train from Delhi; daring rickshaw rides down dusty roads; seemingly year-long days; sunsets and sunrises on Ganges' banks; openness and patience to endure and absorb, negotiate and befriend, all those around us.
For more photos visit:
http://picasaweb.google.com/clapoma/EyeGasmicIndia#