Long ago, when I was barely nineteen, I set out to wander in the Himalayas. My mind was filled with images of snow clad mountains, which I thought, would start from Haridwar.
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#SriMSpeaks
1/8
#SriMSpeaks
I was disappointed. No snowy peaks. In summer, the Shivaliks were dry and grey, a contrast from the lush green Kerala I was coming from. The only redeeming factor was the cool waters of the sacred Ganga.
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I was not interested in the Ashrams teeming with chaar dham pilgrims and foreign tourists with cameras. Charas and bhang were freely available.
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But where was Babaji? So I walked from Haridwar to Rishikesh, Vasishta cave and beyond. Travel worn. Tired. My feet sore. My mind depressed.
Where was the Yogi I sought?
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Where was the Yogi I sought?
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It was only as I reached close to Joshimath and turned to the corner of a mud tract, in a valley between two massive hills, that I looked up to my right and saw...
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There stood a mighty peak, snowclad, glistening silvery white, a sentinel guarding the abode of the yogis.
A startled ‘Ah!’ was all that came out of my mouth as I sat down on a rock, my face still turned to the mountains.
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A startled ‘Ah!’ was all that came out of my mouth as I sat down on a rock, my face still turned to the mountains.
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Everything was wiped out; my tiredness, my disappointment, my fear of failure. There was only the Grand blissful Lord of the snows. Even I wasn't there and somewhere Babaji was smiling!
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I chimed in with the great Adi Shankara, ‘Chidananda rupah, Shivoham Shivoham!’ I am pure conciousness and bliss.
I am Shiva, I am Shiva!
Sri.M
8/8
#SriMSpeaks
#Himalayas
#SriMAutobiography
#PureConsciousness
I am Shiva, I am Shiva!
Sri.M
8/8
#SriMSpeaks
#Himalayas
#SriMAutobiography
#PureConsciousness
