Going to the Source

Visiting the Yamunotri amidst the jumble of Indian tourists on horses and those being carried in palanquins and baskets, was not just any pilgrimage for me. I was not only going to the source of India's second holiest river but also to the source of my birth name, a 3 syllable vibration which has defined me for 27 years.
At a height of 3150 meters, surrounded my trees, rocks and a gushing river, pilgrims shouted the many names of God as we all feverishly climbed to the source of the Yamuna river. Through the plumes of smoke of fresh chapatis and boiling chai, we finally arrived at the most chaotic scene of any place in the natural world. A temple which was structurally unsound leaned over the torrents of the ice cold Yamuna, half naked bathers frolicked in thermal baths, loud speakers blared devotional song, and the smell of horse urine and feces permeated the air. Here we were lead to puja by a Brahmin priest. Shoeless and clueless we all sat down and followed his instructions. His incoherent chants filled the already full air, as we threw things over our shoulder, drank the water of the Yamuna and received the blessings of this holy place. I pushed and pulled and fought my way through crowds to see the statues of the goddesses, ring the bell and dip my feet into the water.

Likening this journey to that of the inner self I was pleased that so many people had reached "the source" with still so many on the way. What is this fascination we have with the beginning of all things? Whether it is our planet, our race or our spirit, it seems we are all trying to better understand the place we are in now by returning to the place we have come from.

And since that place is formless, timeless and encompassing both the infinite and zero, a pilgrimage to a source in the physical world could only represent a fraction of what that other destination might be like.

I just hope I can get a hot cup of chai when I arrive there too.