The Backpacking Bride Page 10

Swami Nanda makes us tea blended with hawthorn and lavender and infused in rose quartz.

  We sip it hot from dainty china cups decorated with flower sprigs.

  ‘Swami Nanda, how will I know when my heart chakra is fully healed?’ I ask, knowing I’m leaving in twenty-four hours and it might help to have an indication of timescale.

  But she gives me a riddle instead of an answer.

  ‘When your kind heart is filled with love and you are feeling truly happy again, then you’ll know the divine energies have healed you.’

  I smile and thank her but in that same moment my heart is filled with disappointment.

  How could my heart – kind or otherwise – ever be filled with love again?

  It’s impossible.

  Chapter 10

  The Moksha Ashram, Rishikesh

  The next morning, after not skipping out on any mantra chanting, bell ringing, or meditation, and having cleansed my karma with warm salty water like a pro and then practiced real yoga, I attend a class run by Guru J on how to attract all the positive energies of the universe into our lives. This phenomenon is what is commonly called Cosmic Ordering.

  I’ve been curious about this class all week; it was on one of Jon’s notes, but it also came highly recommended by Swami Nanda. Also, not so long ago, I’d read an article about it in a glossy woman’s magazine. It’s apparently practiced by celebrities these days and many successful people credit cosmic ordering for all the luck and happiness and success in their lives. The article claimed that by just focussing hard and thinking only positive thoughts, you could attract positive energy (and Swami Nanda says it’s everywhere) and use this energy to manifest abundance, or whatever you feel you need in your life, simply by ordering it up from the universe.

  I imagine it works in the same way as when you order something from Amazon.

  You simply decide that you want it. You order it. Magically, it arrives!

  Imagine, the power of simply wanting and wishing and manifesting your desires! We’d all have our dreams coming true left right and centre. All our hearts’ desires would materialise on demand in a puff of pink smoke.

  I’ve tried this myself many times before and it hasn’t worked.

  As a little girl, I wished for a real pony. I wished so much it hurt.

  But there was still no pony. Obviously, I’d been doing it all wrong.

  Apparently, according to the magazine, you must absolutely believe it will happen for you.

  And just having even one teeny-tiny cynical little doubt at the back of your head will effectively command a negative energy to cancel out your order. If all this has been covered by a glossy magazine and now I’m studying it in India, then maybe there’s something to it?

  But, I think, just like real yoga, this is something that can only be properly learned in a land of ancient magic and very mysterious ways.

  And I’m pretty sure that Guru J – the man, the myth, the legend – knows the secret to how it’s really done. He’s entirely likely to have taught this skill to The Beatles, who are reported to have left Rishikesh on a creative high and with dozens of new songs written while they were in the ashram and with the new White Album in the works. This went on to be the biggest selling Beatles recording ever securing twenty-four times the qualifier for a platinum sales award. That sounds like some amazing cosmic ordering to me. I’m excited and I’m far too desperate for doubts.

  I’ve already decided I’m going to believe in this if it kills me.

  To start off, we all sit in lotus position on cushions around the mandala.

  Under Guru J’s leadership we chant Oooooooommmmmmmmm shanti shanti.

  Then our esteemed Guru takes some time to explain to us about this amazing phenomenon.

  ‘There is a new conviction that is becoming a trend amongst people in the western world,’ he tells us, sounding somewhat amused. ‘Writing books and making TV shows to inform the population that with an optimistic mindset we can all manifest our hearts’ desires. But, let me tell you, this is nothing new, because cosmic ordering has been used by people in India successfully for millennia.’

  Guru J asks us to close our eyes and carefully choose our heart’s deepest desire.

  He tells us it should be something we feel we truly deserve to receive.

  He also suggests it should be a noble desire, rather than a material object, as that always worked best. I realise me wishing for a pony hadn’t been a noble enough goal.

  ‘Peoples of the western world who are trying to manifest a new car, a new house, a better job or a million-dollar lottery win – and failing – are mistakenly trying to attract mere objects.’

  Unlike when I was a child, I wholeheartedly believe that my heart’s desire now is a noble one.

  I don’t need materialism. I simply want to find a way to live my life without Jon. That is my wish. My desire. I don’t want to stop loving him. I don’t want to forget him. I just need a way to accept he is gone and move on with my life without feeling so empty and sad all the time.

  Right now, the thought of going back to the UK after this trip and starting a new life without him still seems impossible. To attract positive energy, I think about Jon’s travel itinerary and how he’s left me with a real legacy of spiritual adventure even though he’s not physically here with me anymore.

  Guru J rings a bell – I assume to clear the air in the shala of any negativity.

  ‘With your cosmic wish in mind, thank the Divine and ask the universe to listen to you.’

  I thank the Divine for the love that Jon and I shared and for his magical mystery tour.

  ‘Visualise what you need,’ Guru J tells us, his voice rising like a crescendo. ‘Then for ask it!’

  Afterwards, we are all given a small square of paper and a pen to write down what we’ve asked for.

  Guru J explained that this small square of paper should be folded up and kept safely on our person until later this evening when we will all attend Aarti down on the riverbank at sundown.

  I have no idea what this Aarti is or what exactly it entails and I just hope it doesn’t involve anything remotely sacrificial. I’d seen evidence of burnt and smouldering offerings on the river bank this week and the smell was truly awful.

  ‘If you believe wholeheartedly and in utmost faith that your request is both noble and justified then it will surely be granted. Leave the rest to cosmic order. But do not leave here with any divine doubts in your mind or your heart!’

  I focus once again on Swami Nanda’s wise words about only seeing the good and positive.

  The desperate part of me is hopeful this will work.

  After class, we all say namaste and bow to Guru J.

  As everyone is making their way out of the shala, I tentatively approach my guru.

  In my hand, I am clutching onto the photo from Jon’s wallet that I’d brought along with me in anticipation of an audience today with the great man himself. He raises his bushy white eyebrows in surprise as I speak to him and press my palms together to bow to him.

  ‘Namaste. Maya, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’

  I’m surprised he knows my name as I’ve had no real contact with him all week.

  ‘I was wondering if you might remember a man called Jon Howard?’ I point Jon out to him in the photograph. ‘That’s him in this photo from 1979.’

  I also indicate the guru in the centre of the picture. ‘And I think this might be you?’

  He studies the photograph for a moment and then smiles before handing it back to me.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t remember a Jon Howard. And that’s not me. It’s my brother, Guru Juri.’

  I’m disappointed, but the likeness between this guru and his guru brother was uncanny.

  Curiously, he took another longer peek at the photo in my hand. ‘Ah … actually, this was taken in the old Maharishi Mahesh Yogi Ashram. It’s just across the river from here but of course it’s a ruin now. It’s also known as The Beatles Ashram. You kno
w, I met George Harrison. He stayed on longer than the others to study astral travelling under my brother’s esteemed mentorship.’

  ‘You mean to say that The Beatles didn’t stay here at our ashram?’ I exclaim in horror.

  Guru J wobbled his head. ‘No. But they did put the whole of Rishikesh on the map.’

  I was not only disappointed but also disillusioned. If The Beatles hadn’t stayed here in this ashram and this photograph had been taken elsewhere then maybe Jon hadn’t stayed here either.

  And to think, all this week, I’d been sitting in the shala trying hard to meditate while thinking that Guru J had been Jon’s Guru and so we had a special connection. I’d also been walking around thinking I was walking in Jon’s shadows and seeing the same sights in the same place as him. To find out he’d probably never even been here at all made everything I’d done this past week seem like a futile waste of my time and effort. Had Jon, while arranging our honeymoon, found his original ashram closed and been forced to choose somewhere else for us to stay at random or had he simply chosen this particular ashram for its special name – Moksha?

  Because I remember Jon saying he’d experienced moksha while bathing in the holy river.

  Guru J raises his hand and beckons me closer. ‘Please, Maya, sit. Swami Nanda tells me you’ve recently made promising spiritual progress and that your heart chakra has responded well to healing. I’d hoped to have a talk with you today now that your wayward friend, Belle, has left us. I rather suspect that she’s led you astray over this past week. Am I right?’

  I sit, feeling guilty. Is it true? Had Belle led me astray?

  Guru J seems entirely serious. I swallow hard while recalling all the illicit coffee and vodka and the playing of truant. I suddenly want to cry. I’d been caught red handed in breaking all the ashram rules. I felt truly terrible.

  ‘You know, Maya, I don’t believe we meet anyone by accident or coincidence. I believe that people come into our lives for one of two reasons.’ He sticks two bony fingers in the air in front of me and counts on them. ‘One. They need to learn something from us. Or, two, we need to learn something from them—’

  ‘Oh my goodness. I’m sorry, Guru J. I’ve not been entirely respectful,’ I interrupt.

  He leans forward and takes a firm hold of both my hands. ‘My question to you is this: who do you think has learned from whom this week?’

  His hands are warm but his skin feels dry and paper thin, his bones fragile.

  ‘Maya, you should know that speaking in anger is no way to speak to the Divine. They hear you and they sympathise; they want to help you. Swami Nanda is here and I am here to help you too. This is the reason we have met.’

  Oh my goodness. How did he know that I’d spoken in anger to the Divine?

  ‘And, as you’re leaving tomorrow, I feel it’s important you take part in Aarti tonight.’

  ‘Yes. I do plan to attend the Aarti. Only, forgive me, but I’m not actually sure what it is?’

  ‘It’s an ancient and divine ceremony. It’s also known as The Ceremony of Light.’

  I gasp in relief. This was the last task on Jon’s notes left to do in India!

  Guru J continues to explain the ceremony. ‘For thousands of years, people of all religions and walks of life have come to the Ganga to experience the power of Aarti because it treats afflictions of the heart. The light dispels darkness and the word Aarti means ‘remover of pain’. Do you see how this can help you, Maya?’

  ‘Yes, Guru J. Thank you. Ommmmmm … shanti shanti!’

  I humbly back away and go back to my room to pick out something to wear for the Aarti and to pack up my backpack ready for leaving tomorrow. While doing so I can’t help but reflect on my week and my experiences here at the Moksha Ashram.

  What lessons had I learned here and what was it that I was taking away with me?

  Faith? Belief? Spiritualism? Knowledge? Understanding?

  I hear myself sigh with resignation because I’m still feeling doubtful and disillusioned.

  There was no connection to Jon here. My heart chakra is still broken.

  I now even have doubts and misgivings about cosmic ordering.

  I heavily suspect my faith only existed here and when I leave I’ll be no less absorbed by my grief than when I arrived. I’ve tried to open my mind. I’ve even given my doubts the benefit of the doubt this week. But, in truth, as much as I really want to believe, I still don’t.

  I can admit to feeling calmer now and less angry but I’m not entirely sure if I can credit Swami Nanda and her chakra healing crystals and rose oils or if it’s because I’ve simply surrendered to my rage and just become exhausted by it all.

  Maybe it’s due to something tangible and practical like learning how to practice real yoga?

  Perhaps only Belle can take the credit for helping me understand how futile anger can be. What was it she’d said about it …?

  Anger is a kind of madness …

  * * *

  Just before sundown, I meet up with a group of others from the ashram who are also leaving tomorrow and together with Swami Nanda we all make our way down to the riverbank. We take a route through the beautiful garden that eventually leads down a steep pathway with lots of steps to a small area of beach. There are already lots of people waiting there. I will admit to feeling a little apprehensive as we move through the swathes of yoga students and pilgrims and the many worshipers, tourists and onlookers who have also arrived at the water’s edge.

  All around us are faces filled with love and devotion. There’s a definite frisson of excitement and anticipation in the air and it’s clear that all these people believe in the magical powers of this ceremony at the holy river. And, in being here, I feel like a terrible fraud.

  I don’t really deserve to be here amongst all this positive and divine energy when mine is distinctly negative and this whole event seems like nothing to me but a beautiful tourist attraction. But I’m doing my best to go along with it so as not to offend anyone on my last night.

  I focus on enjoying seeing everyone happily gathered to chant and sing beneath the shadow of the enormous white statue of a handsome and serene-looking Hindu God sitting in lotus position. ‘That’s Lord Shiva,’ Swami Nanda tells me proudly, as she sees me gazing wide-eyed in considerable awe at the white statue. As the last rays of daylight begin to disappear from the dark and undulating horizon, she urges me to look at the many hundreds, if not thousands, of lamps and fires being lit against the darkness, all the way along the riverbank.

  Many of the lamps being held aloft are small and simple, but others are large and elaborate, with circular multi-tiered uplighters and blazing flames leaping into the air.

  It isn’t long before the air around us is thick with smoke and fumes.

  Breathing in the heavy and intoxicating mix of vapours from the burning incense oils and all the paraffin wax seems to blur the lines between the real and surreal imagery of the ceremony.

  It really is a spectacular sight. Holy men are gesticulating on their elaborately woven prayer mats and many hundreds of worshippers and pilgrims are wailing with devotion, chanting their mantras and clapping their hands to the songs and prayers being offered to the accompanying bells, gongs, and reverberating drums. I turn to look for Swami Nanda.

  I see her standing amongst a group of people a couple of steps away.

  She gestures to me and to the rest of our group to come and select one of the carefully handcrafted little boats that have been fashioned from a leaf by one of the many sellers here.

  The sellers are also offering sprigs of flowers and candles to put inside the little boats.

  Soon everyone, including myself, has bought their little boat and our offerings.

  I watch everyone around me from our shala placing their pieces of folded up paper containing their divine wish into their little boats. Then I watch an old woman place a small photo of a young child into her boat along with a flower bud and a lit candle. She’s crouching dow
n, thigh deep in the holy river, weeping and singing quietly to herself as she sets down her miniature craft into the stream of current that will take it away and down the river.

  Seeing all these tiny candle lights flickering and moving away on the dark rippling currents, while everyone looks on with such faith and devotion and hope, is incredibly beautiful.

  The emotional symbolism of it – despite me being a hard-hearted cynic – does not escape me.

  When it is my turn, Swami Nanda summoned me to the water’s edge.

  ‘We call this boat a diya,’ she tells me gently. ‘Inside it you will place all your heartfelt feelings of grief and loss and pain. The flower is your offering to the Divine. Your lit candle represents your Light of Truth. Your divine wish is your prayer.’

  She gives me an encouraging smile and a bow of her head.

  Standing waist deep in the dark and swirling waters of the Ganges, I set down my little boat.

  I carefully light my candle with the lighter that Swami Nanda has produced for me.

  ‘Maya, let go of this diya. Let it carry away all the pain from your heart so that you can live in peace and joy. Trust that you and your beloved will one day be reunited. That all love is eternal and can never die. Let it go now. Set down your diya into the flow of the holy river.’

  I listen to Swami Nanda’s sweet voice and her words. I hear the prayers all around me.

  I set down my little boat onto the water and I watch through my tears as its flickering candle flame floats away from me to join thousands of other tiny lights on the river. I think about Jon and our love. I think about my painful feelings of loss and anger.

  And I let them go.

  Then suddenly, in the unblinking moment when I realise my diya is finally out of sight, I swear something strange and unworldly happens to me while I stand in the holy water, surrounded by these swathes of love and devotion and prayers and mantra chanting, something I cannot properly explain. I’ve being jolted by something.

  Something so powerful that it fizzles through me like a shock wave. It makes me gasp.

  It completely takes my breath away. It feel as powerful as the static electricity that zapped though me on that very first day when Jon and I met and shook hands in my office.