25 April 2025
We stood waiting for the bus at Nepali Farm last night, unsure exactly where we were supposed to be. Bus stops here are often little more than a nondescript patch beside the road—no signs, no shelters, and always the lingering question of whether you’re even on the correct side of the highway. You just hope the bus doesn’t breeze past you…
Then, like a gust of cosmic wind, a girl dressed all in black appeared—bubbly, radiant, and magnetic. “Are you also heading to Manali?” she asked. Enter: Shabby.
I blinked. She was stunning. A mysterious soul with a fierce, sparkling energy. Zen and I both instantly liked her. We confirmed we were on the same bus and agreed to keep a lookout together. Moments later, the bus indeed approached… and promptly drove right past us!
Confused, we watched it stop a short distance ahead. All three of us had confirmed tickets and were on the correct side of the road. Shabby leapt into action—turns out she’s a tour guide in Europe and quite used to this sort of thing. With a commanding tone and zero hesitation, she informed the bus driver that he needed to come back and collect us immediately. The woman was fire! I wished we had more time to become friends.
The night bus, as expected, didn’t offer much in the way of sleep. By sunrise, I gave up on rest entirely and instead turned my gaze to the window… only to be utterly enchanted. The foothills of the Himalayas rolled into view—lush, wild, and alive. Snowy peaks peeked through the clouds in the distance, and I could feel it — the shift in energy. This place was laced with magic.
We were dropped once again by a highway and flagged a taxi. Just a few kilometers away lay our destination. The village was still sleepy, Tibetan market stalls not yet open, and the local people exuded a gentleness different from other parts of India. Everything felt so fresh, clean, crisp, happy.
We arrived at our guesthouse — a beautiful little haven tucked into the mountainside. My room was a loft, overlooking a balcony with a breathtaking view of snow-draped peaks. After a homemade breakfast of omelets and fried potatoes, we collapsed into our beds for a much-needed nap.
By afternoon, brilliant sunshine pulled us outside for a walk uphill. Zen chatted non-stop, telling stories of his first visit here, his deep love for this place, and his dream of opening a mystery school — a sacred space to pass on the wisdom he’s gathered in his journals over the years.
I was burning with curiosity. I’d already filmed several hours of his stories, but I could sense he was holding back — not yet ready to unveil the real teachings. Still, we had time… and I think I was beginning to understand what he truly longed for.
His greatest dream? To find an apprentice — someone he could train, someone to carry forward the teachings of a new earth, a new vibrational paradigm, the alchemy of soul evolution. Since I couldn’t be that apprentice, and we clearly couldn’t build a school overnight, an idea sparked in me.
What if I created the space? What if I held the container — the feeling of a school — and gave him the ground to start sharing, teaching, and letting the magic pour out… on film?
Tomorrow might just be the day I’ve been waiting for.
Tomorrow, Merlin may reveal his secrets.
