The Language of the Soul

Michael, Angela, Aiden, John and I were staying at the Yog Niketan, a lovely and popular hotel on the ghats of the Ganga in Rishikesh. Around 4 in the afternoon we took one of those colourful boats that, packed with tourists, pilgrims, sadhus and locals, courageously wills its way across the Ganga, navigating the current and mild rapids to get to the other bank. It is a short 5-minute ride and, on the opposite bank everyone scrambles out of the boat doing their best to avoid the waiting passengers who are already pouring themselves into the boat. For a few minutes there’s dodging, helping, struggling, smiling, panicking, and then, as always happens in India, it all works perfectly.

It was late in the afternoon and we were all headed for the sundown Arti at Parnarth Ashram. The young boys dressed in freshly ironed golden clothes who whole-heartedly (most of them), chant the evening chants accompanied by a tabla and cymbals.  There are huge speakers that broadcast the blessed event across the Ganga and it is quite a thrill to be part of this excited group, sitting on the hard, lightly carpeted, cement steps of the ghats as we are all swept up with the movement of this great river, the impressive white statue of Shiva, meditating on a large platform above the river, and the chanting. It is exhilarating to be a part of this group of 150 Eastern and Western pilgrims that sing along nightly being part of the grand salutation to the River, Shiva and something greater than themselves.

            After the chanting had ended and we had offered our prayers and puja offerings (small paper bowls filled with colourful orange calendula flowers, red roses, some burning camphor, and a small earthen bowl filled with ghee and a lit wick) into the swiftly moving current of the Sacred River, we headed up the stairs of the ghat to get our shoes. We retrieved them and looked around for a place to put them on. We all rather simultaneously gravitated towards the steps that were in front of a small temple off to the left. It was quiet there and away from the throngs of people hurrying to get back across the Ram Jula Bridge. As we approached the steps I saw him... a sight I will never forget and a feeling I will never forget. He was a smallish man, maybe in his 40’s, dressed all in white and he held a tiny earthen bowl, like the ones that are used in the puja offerings. It was how he was standing and what he was doing that absolutely captivated me. His body and aura were still...Only his hands and his head moved. His hands were holding the bowl with the small flame tenderly and intentionally and he was making the tiniest circles to the deities that were inside of this small temple. His gaze was steady and quiet and his eyes were soft and filled with a quiet love. He and the offering were one. Occasionally he would bow his head, quietly and slowly.  I immediately received all the blessings of his heartfelt, quiet and sincere Arti. The blessing of this moment sped at lightening speed into my soul! I quickly and quietly called to Michael and said to him “Check this out”... Luckily Michael had his camera and captured the images. But it made me wonder, what in the image can capture this moment? What was it that stole my attention and held me spellbound, commanding my complete attention? How did I register this quiet, sacred moment? For, SACRED, it was. Perhaps the most sacred moment that I felt in India during this trip. And yet, here, away from the other loud and exuberant Arti to the Ganga, was this simple, quiet man doing the most beautiful Arti in his most humble way, totally surrendered to his intention, totally oblivious to us or his surroundings, being completely, quietly and at one in his most profound devotion.

I was so moved by this beautiful experience that I wanted to write about it for the Cross and Lotus Journal, mostly so that I would have to find the words to write about something so invisible, so elusive.  An exercise in writing about the language of the soul. I’m not sure I have done it justice, but I offer it up as a humble offering to you all and feel so incredibly blessed to have been there to receive the blessings of this profound moment and so grateful that Michael had his camera and could save the image.