20 & 21 February 2025
The days have blurred together—clear skies and sunshine, the murmur of quiet conversations, cows dozing in the shade, and birdsong weaving through the air. At first, I was deeply grateful for the rest. Though our accommodations are primitive, our beds are comfortable, and sleep has been a welcome friend. Our accommodation may be plain, but even here on the farm, the Rajasthani women definitely are not plain. How they manage to complete daily tasks, hard physical labor on the farm and mostly spending their time on the floor, cooking and cleaning, in their beautiful dresses, I will never know. Faces mostly covered, they smile curiously as we communicate through simple hand gestures and take photos of their very different way of life. A Rajasthani kitchen mostly consists of an open fire and we have been served foods we may never know the names of. As it is all vegetarian, I am not complaining. Eating a foreign tasting seed from a tree, is definitely preferable to eating an unknow piece of meat…
The weather remains beautiful. It’s warmer here on the farm, but still nothing close to the sweltering heat I remember India for. I know it will catch up with us eventually. What I have realized, though, is that my body does not agree with the dry, dusty surroundings. Just when I think I’ve conquered the coughing and fever, another sneezing fit takes hold. As much as I try to adjust, my being thrives in more humid climates.
Beyond the physical discomfort, I find myself growing restless. We hadn’t planned on staying longer than two nights, so we didn’t pack essentials like laptop chargers or fresh clothes. Our brief trip to Jodhpur was both a refreshing change of scenery and an exhausting outing. We stocked up on necessities, stumbled upon a charming Bohemian coffee shop, and indulged in a well-earned plate of French fries and iced coffee. After that, there wasn’t much left to do beyond wandering through the quiet streets, enjoying an ice cream at Baskin Robbins, and dodging persistent beggars.
Waiting seems to be one of the main activities here. And waiting has never been my strong suit.
Now, after days of rest, short walks through the sandy fruit plantations, and completing what little work we could, I am ready to return to the ashram. Yet, there is no rush, no set plan, no certainty of when we will leave. This open-ended way of moving through time is something I struggle with. My restless energy has nowhere to go.
I check my thoughts and notice the creeping frustration, the irritation at the lack of direction. Guilt follows closely behind. I am grateful. I want to remain positive, to radiate light and calm to those around me. But it is difficult to do so when I lack my usual ways of processing these emotions. Movement and immersion in nature have always been my anchors, my way of finding balance. But here, in the vast and arid Rajasthani desert, neither are within reach.
And so, I sit with this discomfort. I breathe through the restlessness. I remind myself that even in the waiting, there is something to learn.
