3 & 4 April 2025
Even the best-laid plans, rooted in the purest of intentions, don’t always unfold the way we hope. Over the last two months, I’ve had to revisit, revise, and release so many expectations—and I’m tired. After a few more disheartening conversations with my young manager, it’s become clear that some issues simply aren’t going to resolve anytime soon.
I’ve given my suggestions. I’ve posted to socials. I’ve poured love into the mural, which is now nearly complete. But the event I helped plan to attract guests vanished into the ether, and the silence around it speaks volumes. Add to this the relentless noise from neighboring buildings (leaving me sleepless for days), no hot showers since I arrived, and a painful, bruised shoulder… and I found myself on the edge.
So today, I stepped out. I needed air, movement, a reminder that I’m not stuck. Walking along the banks of the Ganga offered exactly that.
Nature always restores me, and the river, Maa Ganga, never fails to soothe. I found a quiet spot, slipped off my sandals, and dipped my feet into her cold, sacred waters. There’s something undeniably healing about her current. It moves through you, gently but firmly—clearing, cleansing, connecting. My own water element is strong, and I often long to submerge myself completely, to let the river hold me. That’s not possible here, but her kiss on my feet was enough.
I sat for a while, breathing her in. Watching sadhus sip chai and locals chasing selfies. It’s always an amusing dance—the way foreign faces attract such fascination. I sometimes wonder how many Indian family albums now feature me, awkwardly smiling beside strangers with phones in hand.
But the distraction was brief. My thoughts returned, swirling. A decision had to be made. Do I stay at Sai Veda and continue trying to express a vision that isn’t being received? Or do I move on and find somewhere else to stay before my flight to Malaysia?
I’m traveling on a tight budget, and volunteer exchanges make this journey sustainable—providing food and accommodation in exchange for my time and energy. They also offer a chance to connect with locals, to live the non-touristy version of a place. So leaving isn’t just about preference—it carries weight. And yet… I don’t feel I have anything more to offer here. Once the mural is done, my heart says it’s time.
A quiet voice inside is whispering: rest. Play. Be a traveler again. No agenda. No pressure. Just breathe and explore.
I never intended to spend time in Rishikesh during this trip. But now that I’m so close, I feel the pull. Haridwar, despite its spiritual reputation, hasn’t offered me the depth or alignment I expected. It served its purpose—but that purpose is complete.
Something new is calling. And I’m ready to listen.
