27 February 2025
This morning, I woke with the strange feeling that I’ve been in India far longer than just three weeks. Time here seems to stretch and swirl, each day unfolding with its own rhythm. Ashram life has settled into a gentle routine—more confined than I would like, but peaceful nonetheless.
Lisa finally received the paint she had been waiting for, and with the prep work done, we began bringing the dining hall mural to life. Our brushstrokes filled the walls with a whimsical Rajasthani camel, little owls, abstract flowers, and a vibrant Deva. As the colors bloomed, so did the curiosity of everyone passing through for meals. Art isn’t a priority here—there are no decorations or paintings on the walls—so our creation was something entirely new, almost radical in its presence.
Later in the day, the girls from the Skills Development Camp joined us. It was heartwarming and eye-opening. Most of them had never held a paintbrush before. For many, creating art for the sake of beauty was a foreign concept. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but guiding their shaky brushstrokes and keeping the mural cohesive was challenging. Lisa and I found ourselves correcting and cleaning up as best we could. Eventually, we had to gently ask them to stop—something we did with care, knowing how important it was not to squash their excitement.
A new friend arrived at the ashram today—a traveling photographer from Sweden. He’s been exploring India for over 15 years and capturing its stories through his lens. He arrived just in time to join us for a special ceremony at Durga’s family home. Durga, Guruji’s personal assistant, is a warm and powerful presence at the ashram, and it was such an honor to meet the people behind her strength.
As we arrived, drums echoed around us and a red carpet was rolled out for Guruji. We quietly observed the rituals, surrounded by shimmering saris and colorfully dressed men. After the blessings were complete, we were ushered to a separate area for dinner. The meal was simple but delicious—made with love and served with such attentive care. I’ve never been so watched while eating, with at least four men standing nearby to refill water and food at a moment’s notice.
Afterward, a group of girls peeked shyly around a corner, giggling and whispering. They were fascinated by us, eager for photos and selfies—something I’ve come to expect in these more rural areas, where foreign visitors are still a novelty.
As I drifted to sleep tonight, my heart was full. Between the laughter, the paint-stained fingers, and the sweet simplicity of shared meals, I know these are the moments I’ll carry with me forever.
