Met in mijn portemonnee nog het briefje van de laatste treinreis: perron 3, wagon H1, cabin C, bed l1, kreeg ik zojuist een email van de klm dat ik kan inchecken.
Gisterochtend ben ik weer in New Delhi aangekomen. Na een reis met zoveel indrukken, beelden, ervaringen, vragen en met net zoveel verhalen en antwoorden.
Early in the morning we crossed the ghat,
where fires still smoldering,
with our Western minds, into the Ganges.
A woman was standing in the river up to her waist;
she was lifting handfuls of water and spilling it
over her body, slowly and many times,
as if until there came some moment
of inner satisfaction between her own life and the river’s.
Then she dipped a vessel she had brought with her
and carried it filled with water back across the ghat,
no doubt to refresh some shrine near where she lives,
For this is the holy city of Shiva, maker
of the world, and this is his river.
I can’t say much more, except that it all happened
in silence and peaceful simplicity, and
something that felt
like that bliss of a certainty and a life lived
in accordance with that certainty.
I must remember this, I thought, as we fly back to America.
Pray God I remember this.