18 & 19 February 2025
We woke up to a flurry of activity this morning. People rushed in and out, excitedly shouting orders at one another. It didn’t take long to realize they were preparing for the trip to Rampura—Guruji’s farm.
I had been looking forward to this visit. From everything I’d heard, it sounded beautiful, and after days of limited activity in the village, a change of scenery and immersion in nature seemed like exactly what I needed. My body is still battling whatever stubborn bug refuses to let go, and both Lisa and I continue coughing up what feels like endless amounts of mucus. Normally, I have so much more energy, and the constant illness has started to weigh on my spirit. The travel, climate changes, unfamiliar food, and ever-present dust likely aren’t helping either.
Finally, we were on our way—car packed with supplies for Rampura and Seru, the German Shepherd, eagerly hopping in. He clearly loves these outings as much as we do.
A New Space, A Different Pace
Travel in India always feels slow. No matter the destination, the roads and landscape stretch the journey beyond its physical distance. The terrain here is dry, dotted with sandstone houses and the occasional scrawny tree. Somehow, amidst the dust, small green patches of carrots and other vegetables manage to thrive. Even short distances seem to expand in time, whether by bus, car, or train. But after what felt like a long stretch on the road, we arrived at Rampura—just a few kilometers outside of Jodhpur.
Our accommodation for the next few days is a simple, thatched-roof room built in the traditional Rajasthani farm style. All five of us—Lisa, Guruji, the other two girls, and myself—will share this open-air space. It feels like a rustic camping trip, which suits me just fine. Both Lisa and I were especially relieved to find a western toilet—one small creature comfort that remains a welcomed luxury! The bathing setup is equally simple, a plain bucket shower with a fire-lit water heating system. But as long as I can wash the dust off once a day, I’m content.
A Gentle Stillness
Life here moves at an unhurried pace. The air is filled only with the distant chime of cowbells and the gentle whisper of wind through the trees. A few farmhands and volunteers live here, alongside a small family tending to the animals and fruit trees. For the next few days, our tasks will be minimal—some planning for the upcoming Skills Camp, but mostly, rest.
As I sit beneath the golden hues of the setting sun, a quiet joy stirs within me. It is so easy to become lost in our thoughts, to be consumed by plans and worries, and to forget the beauty of simply being. But in this moment, with the warmth of the sun on my skin and the peace of the farm surrounding me, I remember.
I am here. And that is enough.
