Beautiful people, beautiful place

By cosmic grace, I was able to spend this past weekend floating in a pool of love. My dad's elder brother is a monk of the Yogananda order and I called him up to see when and where we could meet. This particular uncle I last saw in Binghamton about fifteen years ago when I was six or so. Friday, I flew from Mumbai to Chandigarh. He met me there and we went to a devotee's house for lunch. These people have a beautiful family and are so hospitable. They sent us on our way to Shimla, and we picked up another devotee, Arora ji, along the way, whom I came eventually to consider both a mother and a father! The ashram is tucked up away in the tree-covered foothills of the Himalayas. From the balconies you can gaze accross the valley. The weather is temperate and an even breeze rides over every day. When it rains, the air turns fresh, but Swami ji gave me a shawl to keep warm.

So Arora ji kept us full of excellent cooking. Other devotees from the area came by to pick us up and give me a thorough and highly informative tour of Shimla. I swear, there was one guy who could tell you when and how every speck of dust in Shimla came to be there. We visited a few temples and the Indian Institute for Advanced Studies, which is a historic building that now houses post-docs. Many important historic events took place there. We saw "Mal Road," which comes from the English "mall," which meant a place where the Brits could stroll with no Indians around. Then, they took me to a store which sells fine Himachali goods (as in the state, Himachal Pradesh.) I spent Sunday morning talking to my uncle, hearing some excellent stories and talking of subtle forces. I spent the afternoon with some of the members, just talking, singing, and sitting, letting the evening roll in. They helped me patiently with my Hindi, especially since Bombay had been teaching me pretty crude manners. Everyone there spoke at least 50% of the time in Hindi, so I got a lot of practice listening.

There is a beautiful metaphor in the Autobiography describing Luther Burbank:
"The modesty with which he wore his scientific fame repeatedly reminded me of the trees that bend low with the burden of ripening fruits; it's the barren tree that lifts its head high in an empty boast."
I'll borrow the analogy to say that the weight and magnitude of immense love I receieved in Shimla left me overwhelmed and unable to do anything but lower my head in humility. I don't know if the well of my heart was deep enough to reciprocate. I hope so.

Arora ji accompanied me back to Chandigarh and left me with the Atray family (whom I'd met on my way in). They fed me and gave me, as a parting gift, a beautiful silver cup and a Bible. I was touched; they had maybe known me for a grand total of 90 minutes. They took me to the airport and I reached home safely, where I read a touching email from Arora ji giving me "lots of non stop blessings." Heheh.

In short, it was a beautiful weekend.