Silence is the heart of all things,(From the book `Silence as Yoga')
Sound the fluttering of its
pulse,
Which the fever and the spasm
Of the Universe
convulse.
Every sound that breaks the silence,
Only makes it
more profound,
Like a crash of deafening thunder
In the sweet, blue
stillness drowned.
Let thy soul walk softly in thee,
As a saint
in the heaven unshod,
For to be alone with silence is
To be alone with
GOD.
Perhaps "to be alone with the GOD" is one of the most important reason for which perennial nomads like me undertake various journeys. I concentrate on "adventure pilgrimage" (a term coined by me for the religious treks I go for once in a while).And what better than a `Narmada Parikrama' to get the benefits of so many things together.
You actually feel the presence of the divine power at every step, you can experience the solitude even though you may be in a group, the natural beauty can keep you hooked and the pollution-free environment rejuvenates you like no modern spas can do. The topping on the cake is the sweet innocent people on the Narmada banks who go to any extent to help you, to see that you don't face any trouble.
"Your real parikrama starts now!" was what a sadhu told me on the last day of my Narmada Parikrama. I kept on wondering as to what he meant by it till I touched Nagpur.
We travelled on foot by the river side, through woods and/or deep jungles, sometimes on barren rocks and also through `hare-bhare' khet khalihan, through small and big villages and some big cities too. Cutting across three states (MP, a portion of Maha and Guj), the river Narmada (maiyya as everybody call it), is the real `jeevan daayini' is what we saw, nay, actually experienced.
Indeed the parikrama did not complete there at Amarkantak, but now when I tell you all about it and almost re-live it, when I think about all those good souls on the Narmada banks who helped us and many such things, I feel I am still in parikrama mode.
That old saffron-clad `babaji', chanting Lord's name with a tulsi mala in his hands, sat in front of his simple thatched hut. Barely six-feet by eight-feet with a roof just so much above the ground that one can hardly stand, it can well pass of as the ancient hermitage amidst the jungle.
And whether you offer anything or not in front of the `Narmada maiyya's' idol besides him, he sees you off with a blessing and a twinkling smile with a benevolent look. Sure enough to confuse you which is the real world - the Narmada banks espousing mythological magic or the modern world where we are trying to dam the most ancient river of the world.
N I V E D I T A ...
